The Irish Princess
“. .When other lovers in arms acrossRejoice their chief delight.Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss,I stand the bitter night,In my window, where I may see,Before the winds how the clouds flee.Lo! what a mariner love hath made of me . . .Thus is my wealth mingled with woe,And of each thought a doubt doth grow;“Now he comes! Will he come?
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