Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 28 1830.pdf/8

 Those free streamers glancing, and thou not there! —Is the moment of rapture, or fierce despair? —Hark! there's a tumult that shakes his cell, At the gates of the mountain citadel! Hark! a clear voice through the rude sounds ringing! —Doth he know the strain, and the wild, sweet singing?

It is she!—She is come like a day-spring beam, She that so mournfully shadow'd his dream! With her shining eyes and her buoyant form, She is come! her tears on his cheek are warm And O! the thrill in that weeping voice! "My brother, my brother! come forth, rejoice!