Over the stone (Tros y garreg)

Sleep on, and dream of heaven a while,

Though shut so close thy laughing eyes;

Thy rosy lips still wear a smile,

And move and breathe delicious sighs.

Ah! now soft blushes tinge her cheeks,

And mantle to her neck of snow!

Ah! now she murmurs, now she speaks,

What most I wish, yet fear to know.

She starts! she trembles! and she weeps!

Her fair hands folded on her breast, --

And now, how like a saint she sleeps,

A seraph in the realms of rest!

Sleep on secure, above controul,

Thy thoughts belong to heav'n and thee;

And may the secrets of thy soul

Be held in reverence by me.