With a starry breast, and a snow-capped crest
I foamed in a path of light;
But they bore me thence in a winding way,
They’ve fettered me like a slave,
And as scarfs of old were exchanged for gold,
So they barter my soil-stained wave.
Thro’ the deep tunnel, down the dark shaft,
I search for the shining ore;
Hoist it away to the light of day,
Which it never has seen before.