And hence her little neck appears
So brilliant and so brave;
No longer mine, she has a queen,
Of whom she may be proud,
And sure an angel might be proud
So sweet a soul to save."

"But rest, sir, on my humble bench,
And take my simple cheer,
And I will tell you, all you ask,
With hearty frank good will:
A story of no trifling sort,
In truth, you have to hear,
Yet, like the most of mortal scenes,
A mass of good and ill."

"But say, my pleasant, honest friend,"
(The traveller replied,)
"Where is the lovely English fair,
That you so much admire?"--
"Before you hear where now she goes,
(And God be still her guide!)
Her sufferings here let me relate,"
(Rejoin'd the sighing sire.)

"Of all the sufferers I have seen,
She was indeed the prime,
That of a deeply wounded heart,
Most keenly felt the throes:
'Twas agony to see her grief;