SONG.
FROM THE FRENCH.
I stood upon the wild sea-shore,
And marked the wide expanse;
My straining eyes were turned once more
To long-loved distant France:
I saw the sea-bird hurry by
Along the waters blue;
I saw her wheel amid the sky,
And mock my tearful, eager eye,
That would her flight pursue.
Onward she darts, secure and free,
And wings her rapid course to thee!
O that her wing were mine to soar,
And reach thy lovely land once more!
O Heaven! It were enough to die
In my own, my native home—
One hour of blessed liberty
Were worth whole years to come!
Translation of Miss Costello. Charles, Duke of Orleans, 1391–1467.