Go, Valentine
Go,
Valentine,
and
tell
that
lovely
maid
Whom
fancy
still
will
portray
to
my
sight,
How
here
I
linger
in
this
sullen
shade,
This
dreary
gloom
of
dull
monastic
night;
Say,
that
every
joy
of
life
remote
At
evening's
closing
hour
I
quit
the
throng,
Listening
in
solitude
the
ring-dome's
note,
Who
pours
like
me
her
solitary
song;
Say,
that
of
her
absence
calls
the
sorrowing
sigh;
Say,
that
of
all
her
charms
I
love
to
speak,
In
fancy
feel
the
magic
of
her
eye,
In
fancy
view
the
smile
illume
her
cheek,
Court
the
lone
hour
when
silence
stills
the
grove,
And
heave
the
sigh
of
memory
and
of
love.
