Page:Bonaparte's farewell.pdf/3

 The violet grows in the depths of thy vallies, though wither’d thy tears shall unfold it again; Yet, yet I may baffle the hosts that surround us, and yet may thy heart leap awake to my voice, There are links which must break in the chain that has bound us; then turn thee and call on the chief of thy choice!





Load roar’d the dreadful thunder, the rain in deluge showers! The clouds were rent asunder, by lightning’s vivid powers! The night both drear and dark, Our poor devoted bark, Till next day, There she lay, In the bay of Biscay O!

Now dash’d upon the billow,<br \> her op’ning timbers creak;<br \> Each fears a wat’ry pillow,<br \> none stops the dreadful leak!<br \> To climb to slipp’ry shrouds,<br \> Each breathless seaman crowds,<br \>