Me in this dungeon low.
Oh! cruel Fate that bids me dwell
In this cold, living tomb!
Oh! mother, couldst thou see me here,
And know my deepest gloom,
Thou wouldst forgive thy erring son,
And heal his broken heart;
Repenting, thou wouldst soothe his grief,
And words of love impart.
Upon his knees, his hands he clasped,