fee SOB IGS [Ocr. 
A SERENADE. 
Wakx, Lady, wake! the midnight moon 
Sails through the cloudless skies of June, 
The stars gaze sweetly on the stream 
Which in the brightness of their beam 
One sheet of glory hes ; 
The glow-worm lends its little light, 
And all that’s beautiful and bright 
Is shining on our world to-night, 
Save thy bright eyes. 
Wake, Lady, wake! the nightingale 
Tells to the moon her love-lorn tale ; 
Now doth the brook that’s hushed by day, 
As through the vale she winds her way, 
In murmurs sweet rejoice; 
The leaves, by the soft night-wind stirred, 
Are whispering many a gentle word, 
And all earth’s sweetest sounds are heard, 
Save thy sweet voice. 
Wake, Lady, wake! thy lover waits, 
Thy steed stands saddled at the gates ; 
Here is a garment rich and rare 
To wrap thee from the cold night-air ; 
The appointed hour is flown; 
Danger and doubt have vanished quite, 
Our way before lies clear and right, 
And all is ready for the flight, 
Save thou alone. ; 
Wake, Lady, wake! I have a wreath, 
Thy broad fair brow should rise beneath ; 
I have a ring that must not shine 
On any finger, Love, but thine— 
I’ve kept my plighted-vow ; 
Beneath thy casement here I stand, 
To lead thee by thy own white hand, - 
Far from this dull and captive strand, 
But where art thou ? 
Wake, Lady, wake ! She wakes, she wakes, 
Through the green mead her course she takes— 
And now her lover’s arms enfold 
A prize more precious far than gold, 
Blushing like morning’s ray ; 
Now mount thy palfrey, maiden kind, 
Nor pause to cast one look behind, 
But, swifter than the viewless wind, 
Away, away ! 
a Sug : is as 
Ady me, ath, . BA 
