TELL ME THAT HE LIVES.
I
Tell me that he lives and I'll smile again,
Though his limbs be gall'd by a tyrant's chain,
Time may burst the link, captives may go free,
Tell me that he lives and give life to me.
Wounded he may pine in a foreign land,
And his sword may fall from his nerveless hand;
He may live to wear Fame's unfading wreath,
Oh! my constant heart could not bear his death.
II
Tell me that he lives; I can bear to know
He is false to me—say if it be so?
Not one selfish thought lingers in my breast;
Tell me that he lives, I'll endure the rest.
Pallid is my cheek and my eye is dim,
He would scarcely know her who weeps for him;
He may live to wear Fame's unfading wreath,
Oh! my constant heart could not bear his death.
