SONG OF GERALDINE.
I
Why tell me of my Lover's throne,
It hath no charms for me,
But say his heart is all my own,
And then his Bride I'll be.
Though proudly soaring to the sun,
The birds behold their king,
The eagle, in his mountain nest,
In softness folds his wing.
II
Some love the torrent as it leaps
O'er rocks, in wild career,
But oh! give me the stream that sleeps
In sunshine calm and clear.
Let me in solitude receive
The smiles that love evince,
And to the gazing world I leave
The splendour of the prince.
