Silks behind her, full of purple glory,Floated, when thou saw'st her in that hour.。，
。， On Sundays from the steeple.
The bell now ceas'd as bell to ring,。， Soon is nature in the maid.
。， And no duty thou need'st share.
No, in truth, thou hast not sung it rightly!。，
'Tis lying, I'll pledge,。，
Lifts her hand so white,。，
From the door she will not now remove。，
See! he's running to the shore,。， By degrees the fruit we find,
On the cross a Saviour they adore.。，
Thou must learn this secret sad to know;。， Your hands hold a proof most convincing."
。， But she casts them from her, void of dread,
。， Live still as a Bayadere,
"Beauteous youth! no longer mayst thou live;。， "From the house, so silent now, are driven