Sir Parson and Sir Bailiff, again,
Prevails he nought.
And then her look! the tone
If I depart from this sad sphere,And leave a will behind me here,A suit at law will be preferr'd,But as for thanks,--the deuce a word!So ere I die, I squander all,And that a proper will I call.
Slumber calmly thou!
Fair in form, with painted face,--
And,--wonder!--Her face and eyes were radiant and bright,And the maid of the mill was disclosed to the sight
'Twas placed in the bierBut, alas! we now find
Oh, thou broom accurs'd?
Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me;While all my heart was at thy side.
And she was still, alas, so fairThey all gave way before my wrath,
Softly tow'rds him then he drew me;
Spirits raised by me