Hark!—the accents of weeping prayer
Upon the vesper stillness glide;
The voices are yonder hut within,
They plead for pardon, and mourn for sin—
There Marian kneels at Malcolm’s side.
Now for the moral of my tale.—Although of heavenly birth,
Love sometimes deigns to fold his wings, and find a home on earth.
He strengthens woman’s hand to deeds that make the warrior quail,
He raises woman’s mind to thoughts that turn stout manhood pale;