If Chance Some Pensive Stranger, Hither Led, His Bosom Glowing From Majestic Views, Temple And Tower 'Mid The Bright Landscape'S Hues, Should Ask Who Sleeps Beneath This Lowly Bed? A Maid Of Sorrow. To The Cloistered Scene, Unknown And Beautiful A Mourner Came, Seeking With Unseen Tears To Quench The Flame Of Hapless Love: Yet Was Her Look Serene As The Pale Moonlight In The Midnight Aisle; Her Voice Was Gentle And A Charm Could Lend, Like That Which Spoke Of A Departed Friend; And A Meek Sadness Sat Upon Her Smile! Now, Far Removed From Every Earthly Ill, Her Woes Are Buried, And Her Heart Is Still.