The Exile Singing

	Beyond the starlight on the sea,
	Beyond the curling pearls of foam,
	Lies something sweet and dear to me-
	Beyond that sea lies my home.

	Though I have wandered through green vales
	Laden with living flowers' laugh,
	Within this beauty my heart quails,
	And longs to seek a different path.

	Though I have gazed upon cascades,	
	My heart still sings to its own tunes.
	Though I have danced with faery maids,
	In my heart yet rise other moons.

	Though I have haunted highest hills,
	And breathed the coldest, freshest air,
	And drunk from sweetest shining rills,
	Yet the familiar to me fair

	Is, and shall ever more remain.
	It is a source of lovely hate
	And a trap of loveliest pain
	To know myself clear-caught by fate.

	Though it may not be truly sweet,
	I can but drink my homeland's wine.
	Though they may not be truly fleet,
	Our horses leave all winds behind.

	Though roses in other places
	Shed their scents kind, and sweet and fair,
	They cannot have all the graces
	Of the violets that flourish there.

	There the sunlight is more mellow,
	The streams more radiant and clear,
	All the corn a deeper yellow,
	And lilies bloom all round the year.

	There, only there, the notes of lyres,
	And the crystal falls from harps
	Torture the heart with secret fires,
	And cause weeping bright and sharp.

	No albatross has wider wings,
	Nor more desire to cross the foam.
	Send me back to where my song springs! 
	-My heart is seabound, winging home.