Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/72

And thou, my Leonor! that unrepining,
If sad in soul, didst quit all else for me,
When stars—the stars that earliest rise—are shining,
How their soft glance unseals each thought of thee!
For on our flight they smil'd;—their dewy rays,
Thro' the last olives, lit thy tearful gaze
Back to the home we never more might see;
So pass'd we on, like earth's first exiles, turning

It was a woe to say—"Farewell, my Spain!
The sunny and the vintage land, farewell!"
—I could have died upon the battle plain
For thee, my country! but I might not dwell
In thy sweet vales, at peace.—The voice of song
Breathes, with the myrtle scent, thy hills along;
The citron's glow is caught from shade and dell;
But what are these?—upon thy flowery sod