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Though scant be the cost
Of that morsel of air.
Will it clothe, will it feed me,
Or rest my worn frame?
Good day! wholesome diet,
A proud heart to tame.
Now the sun dusks his glories
Below the blue sea,
And no star its splendor
Deems worthy of me;
The path I must travel,
Grows dark as my fate,
And nature, like man, can
Wax savage in hate.
My country! my country!
Though step-dame thou be,
Yet my heart, in its anguish,
Cleaves fondly to thee;
Still in fancy it lingers
By mountain and stream,
And thy name is the spirit
That rules its wild dream.
