Then as ev'ning gave way to the shadows of night,
Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his light;
Then home let us hasten while yet we can see,
For no watchman is waiting for you and for me.
12. The Italian Pedlar Boy.
From the fair Sardinian shore,
I your markets come to store;
Muse not though so far I dwell,
And my wares come here to sell:
'Tis from the fear of hunger and cold.
Then come to my pack while I cry,
What d'ye lack, what d'ye buy?
For here it is to be sold.
Knives and scissors—thus I cry;
Thread and tape—come, ladies, buy;
Pins and needles—here you see
All of finest quality.
Things for the young, and things for the old.
Then come to my pack, &c.
Ladies! ah, you not'ing buy
From the poor Italian boy;
Yet I left my own dear home,
And to you, kind friends, am come.
Let me not die, then, of hunger and cold.
