CHORUS.
Wake! Dinah, wake! the bright moon is beaming
’O’er the meadow, the corn-field, and the hill;
And the stars, though no brighter than thy bright eyes,
Are gleaming o’er the earth all so calm and still.
Wake! Dinah, wake! the gentle breeze is blowing,
The bird’s notes still hush’d in the grove;
The ivy around the sturdy oak is growing,
Clinging fondly as though something still to love
The shining river views it as onward rolling by,