Page:Dublin University Magazine Volume 2 1833.pdf/3



Know'st thou the Land where bloom the Citron bowers? Where the gold Orange lights the dusky grove? High waves the Laurel there, the Myrtle flowers, And thro' a still blue Heaven the sweet winds rove. Know'st thou it well?— —there, there, with thee, O Friend! O loved one! fain my steps would flee!

Knows’t thou the Dwelling?—there the Pillars rise, Soft shines the Hall, the painted Chambers glow; And forms of Marble seem with pitying eyes To say—"poor child! what thus hath wrought thee woe?" Know'st thou it well?— —there, there, with thee, O my Protector! homewards would I flee!

Know'st thou the mountain?—high its bridge is hung, Where seeks the Mule through mist and cloud his way; There lurk the Dragon-race, deep caves among, O'er beetling Rocks there foams the torrent-spray; Know'st thou it well?— —with thee, with thee, There lies my path; O Father! let us flee!