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With the shades of night descending, 
With thy guardian spirits blending, 
To thy sleep sweet visions lending, 
There, e’en there, true love may be, 
There, and thus am I with thee! ’ 
Months and seasons rolled away, 
And the maiden’s cheek was pale; 
When, as bloomed the buds of May, 
Cupid thus resumed the tale; 
‘ Over land and sea returning, 
Wealth, and power, and beauty spurning, 
Love within his true heart burning, 
Comes the wanderer mid and free, 
Faithful maiden! back to thee ! ’ 
