And from this prison should I come, in freedom once again,
To sit and hear thy words of love on Andalusia's plain,
The brightest thought would be to me that thou, the King, has seen
'Twas right to free a wretched slave that she might be thy Queen.
Hard is the lot of bondage here, and heavy is my chain,
And from my prison bars I gaze with lamentation vain;
But these are slight and idle things--my one, my sole distress
Is that I cannot see thy face and welcome thy caress!
This only is the passion that can my bosom rend;
'Tis this alone that makes me long for death, my sufferings end.