1832.] Song. 613 



i * - Oti.S .Jjd*/-: r -r i i i i-ni i i f 



the accessaries to the portraits of Londonderry and Ellenborough, of 

 Wctherell and Peel and of all who wear the " human face divine" only 

 as a mask to their satyr-like inhumanities. 



We should like to see the " Right Reverend Bench" painted upon the 

 principles herein laid down; and the " Gallery of the Lords" might also 

 furnish materiel for a " Gallery of female portraits," that in grotesque and 

 ungraceful qualities would present a most startling contrast to their like- 

 nesses, by Lawrence. If delineated as they really are, we should see a 

 revolting deformity mingling with the beauty that had enchained us ; and 

 they would themselves perceive, that if they once overstep a certain 

 boundary, they may share the fate of Cinderella, when, at a particular 

 stroke of the clock, she saw her pride and radiance fade away into rag- 



gedness. 

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619W 9fl 1 . 



H "to qo oil '" "to u fj- 



cu(ffli(inil mor /f/ow abi 



SONG, 



OJ-"3H2- /flfi , I00b ItSKJO-'Wjj' '(If? 



BY JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 

 djocf 



eiyfilfiSl diU'JlJ bflfc ,3^(3 If,7UI rilll 10 flIWJ 3ffo gill 



'aslqo.- A FAIR lad y looks out from her lattice but why. ,^ w , ?oiftefiJa:jui bn* 



s . i>s Do tears bedim that lady's eye? ,, fl bluow ?. 



bio orij Below stands the knight who her favour wears, >niw)H9 t 9fio ifiluqi 



But he mounts not the turret to dry her tears ; 



He springs on his charger " Farewell ! " lie is gone, 



And the lady is left in her turret alone. 



" Ply the distaff, my maids ply the distaff before 



It is spun, he may happen to stand at the door." 

 9iiT .bnuoi, ifiiyl DIG t 9n -stei' t bon^Ieab ^Ltaab 



There was never an eye than that lady's more bright,- 

 Why speeds then away her favoured knight? 



TO. I. V V V T t. ! >J / 



Ihe couch which her white fingers broider d so fair, 



Were a far softer seat than the saddle of war ! 



What's more tempting than love ? In the patriot's sight 



The battle of freedom he hastens to fight ! 



" Ply the distaff, my maids ply the distaff before 



" It is spun, he may happen to stand at the door." 



The fair lady looks out from her lattice, but now 



Her eye is as bright as her fair shining brow ! 



And is sorrow so fleeting ? Love's tears dry they fast ? 



The stronger is love, is't the less sure to last? 



Whose arm sees her knight round her waist ? 'Tis his own ! 



By the battle she wept for, her lover is won ! 



Ply the distaff, my maids, ply the distaff no more ! 

 . ,, . . . , , _ , , 



Would you spin when already he stands at the door ? 



13 lOfcJ 



no noi&JibDii 



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