Maid Awaking

Lovely maiden gather’d roses, Sleep overtook her then; Pass’d a youth and call’d the maiden, Waked the maid again: “Wake! O wake! thou lovely maiden, Why art slumbering now? All the rosy wreaths are fading, Fading on thy brow. He, thy heart’s own love, will marry; He will break his vow!” ‘Let him marry, let him marry, I shall not complain; But the thunderbolt of heav’n Shall destroy him then.’