Lays: 7

" O, rest thee here in silent bower; —
The noon-shut folds its yellow flower,
The air shines quivering o'er the hill,
And all around is hushed and still.

" On mossy pillow lay thee here.
A spring, so cool, is bubbling near; —
O, lay thee down! — a draught I'll bring,
So clear and sparkling, from that spring.

" Ah! thou a long and weary way
Hast travelled through the sultry day; —
Close soft thy eyes, and I will keep
Watch o'er thee in thy gentle sleep.

" My heart is rich, — my hand is free,
However poor and low I be:
I have but little in my store; —
I give thee all, — what could I more? "

" Thy cup I drink, and now I close
My weary eyes in sweet repose.
Thy heart is rich, — thy hand is free!
A princess, thou shalt go with me. "
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