 | Redwald |  |
With woe is Ivan's bosom fraught,
Fled are the joys he fondly thought
Would bless his long delay'd return,
And bid him, henceforth cease to mourn:
Ere long the voice of mourning friends
O'er weeping Mona's isle extends;
He yields to fate's resistless doom,
And kneels beside a mother's tomb!
Fled are the joys he fondly thought
Would bless his long delay'd return,
And bid him, henceforth cease to mourn:
Ere long the voice of mourning friends
O'er weeping Mona's isle extends;
He yields to fate's resistless doom,
And kneels beside a mother's tomb!
| Redwald | |