And now, while dance and frolic shake the vale,
Sudden the panting girl, dishevell'd, pale,
Stands in the midst. All pausing gather round,
And gaze amaz'd. The tabors cease to sound.
'Yes, ye may well,' the faltering suppliant cries,
'Well may ye frown with those repulsive eyes.
Yet pity one not vicious but deceiv'd,
Who vows of marriage, ere she fell, believ'd.
Without a mother, sire, or fostering home,
Save, save me, leave me not forlorn to roam.