20  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
Give me for grace 
His beautiful daughter, 
Voluptuous charmer ? 
A golden ring 
Should bring her to me ; 
No marriage dreamy ; 
Identity, love ! 
He looks up, 
Stay !  In the wood 
By the waterway, stands 
A delicate fairy ! 
Molly Tyson is discovered. 
I’ll steal from above, 
Watch her.  How good ! 
How sweet of her hands ! 
How dainty and airy ! 
How perfect, how kind ! 
How bright in her thoughts ! 
How subtle, refined, 
The least light of her mind ! 
Let me approach ! 
O fear !  O sorrow ! 
I fear to encroach. 
Scree-king, I borrow 
Thy frown, thy pride, 
Thy magical targe. 
To her side I glide, 
To the mystical marge 
Of this lake enchaunted.