Flower of the mountain! by the wanderer's hand Robbed of thy beauty's short-lived sunny day; Didst thou but blow to gem the stranger's way, And bloom, to wither in the stranger's land?...
Poor little sprite! in that dark, narrow cell Caged by the law of man's resistless might! With thy sweet liquid notes, by some strong spell, Compelled to minister to his delight!...
Farewell, old playmate! on thy sandy shore My lingering feet will leave their print no more; To thy loved side I never may return. I pray thee, old companion, make due mourn...