SONG.

Oh fly with me my lady love, my island home is free,

And its flowers will bloom more sweetly still, when gazed upon by thee;

Come, lady, come, the stars are bright—in all their radiant power,

As if they gave their fairy light to guide thee to my bower.

Oh fly with me, my little bark is waiting ’neath the steep,

And the midnight breeze is fresh to waft thee o’er the stilly deep;

Though tempests blow they should not raise thy fears, nor scathe thy form,

For love would hover o’er thee still, a halo in the storm.

I’ve found for thee, my lady love, the freshest flowing springs,

Whose cooling waters ever burst in crystal sparklings;

It is for thee my shaft will wing the wild bird in the air,

Or strike the swift gazelle to deck our simple mountain fare.

Oh ’tis thou canst bid my spirit throb with rapture’s warmest sigh,

As gushing winds will make a lute’s strings sleeping melody;

When other hopes have faded like the flow’rets of the spring,

Thou’lt be to me a joyous wreath for ever blossoming.

Then fly with me my lady love, my island borne is free,

And its flowers will bloom more sweetly still, when gazed upon by thee;

Come, lady, come, the stars are bright in all their radiant power,

As if they gave their fairy light to guide thee to my bower.