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And where the sea-shell singeth passing sweet
Under the trembling tide,
The demon of the storms I would not fear—
But O! I am a fettered captive here!
Under the trembling tide,
The demon of the storms I would not fear—
But O! I am a fettered captive here!
O! could I see my home
If but to kiss my sister's cheek once more,
And hear thee, Mother, bless me o'er and o'er!
For then not e'en my doom
Could dim thy truant's laughter-loving eye—
Alas! without thy blessing I must die!
If but to kiss my sister's cheek once more,
And hear thee, Mother, bless me o'er and o'er!
For then not e'en my doom
Could dim thy truant's laughter-loving eye—
Alas! without thy blessing I must die!
Die in this dreary cell,
With no fond ear to catch my parting breath;
In bondage I must wrestle here with death,
Without one sweet farewell
From lips, that oft have smiled on me in joy—
Alas! sweet Mother, for thy captive boy!
With no fond ear to catch my parting breath;
In bondage I must wrestle here with death,
Without one sweet farewell
From lips, that oft have smiled on me in joy—
Alas! sweet Mother, for thy captive boy!
