I am no stranger, proud and gay,
To win thee from thy home away,
And find thee, for a distant day,
A theme for wasting signs.
_Shule, Shule, &c._

But we were known from infancy,
Thy father's hearth was home to me,
No selfish love was mine for thee,
Unholy and unwise.
_Shule, Shule, &c._

And yet, (to see what love can do!)
Though calm my hope has burned, and true,
My cheek is pale and worn for you,
And sunken are mine eyes!
_Shule, Shule, &c._

But soon my love shall be my bride
And happy by our own fire-side,
My veins shall feel the rosy tide,
That lingering Hope denies.
_Shule, Shule, &c._

My Mary of the curling hair,
The laughing teeth and bashful air,
Our bridal morn is dawning fair,
With blushes in the skies.
_Shule! Shule! Shule, agra!