He ceas’d the song, then paused awhile;
Down roll’d the silent tear;
The lady, smit with sympathy,
Could scarce the like forbear.
Then stifling back the star-like drop,
With woman’s winning voice,
She ask’d if tidings from his lord
Would not his heart rejoice?
“Perchance,” quoth she, “I may you aid,
(Assuage your troubled breast,)