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Grant to thy child relief,And view with mercy this unhappy one!

When at length return'd the spring-time,To the nightingales thus spake I:"Darling nightingales, oh, beat yeEarly, early at my window,--Wake me from the heavy slumberThat chains down the youth so strongly!"Yet the love-o'erflowing songstersTheir sweet melodies protractedThrough the night before my window,Kept awake my loving spirit,Rousing new and tender yearningsIn my newly-waken'd bosom.And the night thus fleeted o'er me,And Aurora found me sleeping,--Ay, the sun could scarce arouse me.

Thro' distant vales and woods, link'd on to thee!Ah, Lily's heart could surely never fall