Aaron Hill

To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious read more

To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious want,
And, consecrated by the heaven within it,
The sky-blue pool a font.

The doctors gave her over--to an ass.

The doctors gave her over--to an ass.

But, oh! the love that gold must crown!

But, oh! the love that gold must crown!

Hundreds of men were turned into beasts,
Like the guests at Circe's horrible feasts,
By the magic read more

Hundreds of men were turned into beasts,
Like the guests at Circe's horrible feasts,
By the magic of ale and cider.

A name, it has more than nominal worth,
And belongs to good or bad luck at birth.

A name, it has more than nominal worth,
And belongs to good or bad luck at birth.