Soft, as the dews of morn arise,
    And on the pale flower gleam;
So soft Eltruda's melting eyes
    With love and pity beam.

As drest in charms, the lonely flower
    Smiles in the desert vale;
With beauty gilds the morning hour,
    And scents the evening gale;

So liv'd in solitude, unseen,
    This lovely, peerless maid;
So grac'd the wild, sequester'd scene,
    And blossom'd in the shade.

Yet love could pierce the lone recess,
    For there he likes to dwell;
To leave the noisy crowd, and bless
    With happiness the cell.

When to another, the fond breast
    Each thought for ever gives;

When on another, leans for rest, 
    And in another lives!

Page 66, 
Miss Williams!

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