17 



And letting thy set lips, 



Freed from wrath's pale eclipse, 

 The rosy edges of their smile lay bare, 

 What words divine of lover or of poot 

 Could ti'll onr love and make thee know it, 

 Among the Nations bright beyond compare ? 



What were our lives without thee ? 



What all our lives to save thee ? 



We reck not Avhat we gave thee ; 



We will not dare to doubt thee, 

 But ask whatever else, and we will dare ! 



