And brain delirious with the daystar’s rage,

Can make me know such grief, as thus to sever

With many a bitter sigh, dear land, from thee;

To feel this heart must dote on thee forever,

And feel, that all thy joys are torn from me!

Ah me! How oft will fancy’s spells in slumber

Recall my native country to my mind!

How oft regret will bid me sadly number