And the fitful strain alone
Murmurs the notes of his native land—
Does echo repeat that moan
From the dungeon wall so grim and so drear?—
No!—an answering minstrel lingers there.
Up starts the listening king—a flash
Of memory's gifted lore
Bursts on his soul—a deed so rash,
What captive would e'er deplore?
Since bonds no longer unnerve the free,