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"God of my fathers! O how strange and flighty,
With a poor maiden, are the proud and mighty:
O how my cheeks were burning, when he said,
'Time may tell other tales, thou lovely maid!"
And then his voice was silent—but her cheeks
Crimson'd—aye! crimson'd like an early rose:
Her heart beat high—she bids it rest—she speaks
In vain—its beating loud and louder grows.
The prince mov'd slowly o'er the fields—moved only
In erring steps, but sorrowful and lonely—
While every eye but his was gay and bright,
And every, every heart but his was light.
"Smjl! tell me how such wond'rous charms are hid
In such a solitude—a gem so rare,
Conceal'd beneath so rude a coverlid—
Do village hawthorns such bright roses bear?
Now God shall be my witness—to this beauty
I'll pledge my marriage faith—my marriage duty:
She, only she my wedding bed shall share—
She only shall my wedding honors bear."
