CZARDAS (A FRAGMENT)
221
Ho! ne'er let me meet my doom
Down within the lea;
Nor may I find on earth a tomb,
Death's laughing-stock to be.
On the granite I would find
Rest, where rocks are still;
Cradled by the weeping wind
I would sleep my fill.
May the gloomy pine-trees sigh,
Verdant branches swaying;
Clouds in clusters hover nigh,
A rainbow crown displaying.
There the mighty eagles soar
Loudly onwards sweeping;
From the granite gates there pour
Mighty waters weeping.
