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THE DAUGHTER.1797.
"Come, mournful lute! dear echo of my woe!
No stranger's tread in this lone spot I fear,
Sweeter thy notes in such wild places flow,
And, what is more, my Henry cannot hear!
No stranger's tread in this lone spot I fear,
Sweeter thy notes in such wild places flow,
And, what is more, my Henry cannot hear!
He will not know my pain and my despair,
When that dread scene arises on my view,
Where my poor father would not hear my pray'r,
Or grant his only child a last adieu!
When that dread scene arises on my view,
Where my poor father would not hear my pray'r,
Or grant his only child a last adieu!
