Five English popular songs/The pilgrim of love

THE PILGRIM OF LOVE.

A hermit who dwells in these solitudes cross’d me,
⁠As wayworn and faint up the mountain I press’d,
The aged man paus’d on his staff to accost me,
⁠And proffer’d his cell as my mansion of rest.
Ah! nay, courteous father, onward I rove,
No rest but the grave for the pilgrim of love.
⁠No rest but the grave for the pilgrim of love,
⁠No rest but the grave, for the pilgrim of love.
Yet tarry, my son, till the burning noon passes;
⁠Let boughs of the lemon-tree shelter thy head;
The juice of the ripe Muscadel flows in my glasses,
⁠And rushes fresh pull’d for Siesta are spread.
Ah! nay, courteous father, onward I rove,
No rest but the grave, for the pilgrim of love.
⁠For the pilgrim of love, for the pilgrim of love.
⁠No rest but the grave, for the pilgrim of love.

FINIS.