Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 28 1830.pdf/6



And was the bright gift from the captive fled? Like the fire on his hearth, was his spirit dead? Not so!—but as rooted in stillness deep, The pure stream-lily its place will keep, Though its tearful urns to the blast may quiver, While the red waves rush down the foaming river, So freedom's faith in his bosom lay, Trembling, yet not to be borne away!