There, there with thee,
O my protector! homewards might I flee!
Know’st thou the mountain? High its bridge is hung,
Where the mule seeks through mist and cloud his way;
There lurk the dragon-race, deep caves among,
O’er beetling rocks there foams the torrent-spray.
Know’st thou it well?
With thee, with thee,
There lies my path, O father! let us flee!