Nell now rose to go, but she was not permitted to do so, until she had favoured the company with a song. In a rich contralto voice she sang the following:—
I love the shepherd’s artless rhymes,
A shepherd’s joys revealing;
I love the songs of ancient times,
Their notes of simple feeling.
They echoed o’er my native hills
When last I wandered near them,
And now mine ear with rapture thrills
In distant climes to hear them.
When hopes that could the heart entrance,