THE CAPTIVE.
I.
The Captive crouch'd in his dungeon,
On the floor the sunbeam lay;—
He crept the length of his fetter,
But the sunbeam flitted away:
“Ah! thus hath the cruel fortune
Still mock'd me,” the Captive said;
“She came with her sunshine smiling,
But ere I could clasp her, fled.
II.
The Captive slept in his dungeon,
And a vision of visions spell'd
The sense of his sleeping sorrow,
The fairest he ever beheld;
A maid at the door stood smiling,
And she said—“Come hither to me;”
From his wrist his fetters crumbled,
And his feet and his soul were free.
III.
But with dawn the maiden vanish'd,
And lo! by the Captive stood
The form of the savage headsman,
With his axe still dripping blood:—
“Ah! now, indeed,” said the Captive,
“The sense of the dream I see;
The maid was the angel of mercy,
And 'tis mercy that sets me free.”
