The Exile

"Sweep on! sweep on! triumphant storm,
Drape in thy murky clouds my form.
Lash still the shore, ye sounding waves,
Rocking the dead in their briny graves.
Howl on, ye winds, for ye speak to me
More sweetly than mother's lullaby;
The rush and swell of thy thund rings grand
Seem music from my far-off land,
Beyond the tumultuous sea.
"Here by this naked rock, I keep
My vigil o'er the furied deep.
I fly the hearts where woe's unknown,
To fling, O storm, with thine my moan;
To mix my tears with thine icy spray,
And find in thy gloom a kindred day.
The exile to darkest fate must bow,
His tears are gems from sorrow's brow,
And shed but in shade their ray.
"Mem'ry, whose light should never fade,
Brings me a wilderness of shade;
My land, whose face doth ever bloom,
To me is wrapped in sable gloom.
So in my bosom no rest's for me,
My soul's enslaved till my land is free
Free as thy blast, O rushing wind,
Free as the swoop of an eagle mind,
Free as thou, wild, upheaving sea."
Thus an exile wept on a foreign shore
For the land that his eyes would see no more.
Then softened his heart till it sweetly thrill'd
With dreams from his childhood's mem ries fill'd;
Nor, oh! in their flight did they fail to wing
Where the ev'ning chimes o'er a graveyard ring,
And a soft shade falls o'er the peaceful dead
Where the green moss grows o'er his mother's head.
And his black eyes dimmed as his mem'ries bound
Now hung o'er the breast of a battle mound,
For, fameless, forgotten by all but him,
His father slept in its bosom grim;
And his heart high heaved when his land enchain'd
Of the distant vision alone remained.
Then no more to the waters his head was bowed,
But rising he cried mid the storm aloud
"Lord! Lord, on high! oh, canst thou hear
My pray'r amid the storm's career?
Stretch forth Thy hand from yonder sky,
Whence thus Thy flaming lightnings fly!
And since that hand alone can save
That to the world existence gave,
Here, 'mid Thy wonders, Lord, I crave
My land her freedom, me a grave!"
As though responsive to the Exile's prayer,
Loudly the thunders thund ring him rolled;
Up rose the deep, and soon the rock was bare,
While lightnings touched the broken wave with gold;
The winds wailed lonely o'er its sullen breast,
And lulled the Exile's broken heart to rest.