 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
336
ECHO-DUETT.—HERE IN THIS VALLEY.
Here, in this valley of Aidenne,
That sleeps in a peace of its own,
They tell of a beautiful maiden,
Close captive in a bower of stone;
To the Giant of Rock that chains her,
She pleads with a fruitless prayer,
Yet, in scorn of her pleading, he deigns her
But a mock in the empty air!
There, dark, lies the hapless woman,
Whom vainly we seek to see;
But hearken, I pray, while I summon
Her voice, which shall speak to me!
That sleeps in a peace of its own,
They tell of a beautiful maiden,
Close captive in a bower of stone;
To the Giant of Rock that chains her,
She pleads with a fruitless prayer,
Yet, in scorn of her pleading, he deigns her
But a mock in the empty air!
There, dark, lies the hapless woman,
Whom vainly we seek to see;
But hearken, I pray, while I summon
Her voice, which shall speak to me!
Echo—
O heart of stone, O heart of stone,Which binds me; Which binds me;
Oh, hear my moan, Oh, hear my moan,
Oh, set me free, Oh, set me free,
And let me flee And let me flee
To any heart, to any heart, To any heart, to any heart
That finds me! That finds me!
Oh, set me free, Oh, set me free,
And let me flee And let me flee
To any heart, To any heart, to any heart,
To any heart, That finds me!
That finds me! Finds me!
Me! me!
Thou weep'st at the piteous pleading,
But the Being who dwells so lone,
Her own heart forever bleeding,
Hath songs for a grief not her own.
'Twould seem that all sympathies human
Should grow from one's sorrows at first,
And love never springs in the woman,
Till her own soul is arid with thirst!
And now, if a heart of feeling
But swells in that bosom of thine,
Hear the song of that maiden, revealing
The passion that speaks for mine.
But the Being who dwells so lone,
Her own heart forever bleeding,
Hath songs for a grief not her own.
337
Should grow from one's sorrows at first,
And love never springs in the woman,
Till her own soul is arid with thirst!
And now, if a heart of feeling
But swells in that bosom of thine,
Hear the song of that maiden, revealing
The passion that speaks for mine.
Echo—
I pray to thee, I pray to thee,Who binds me, Who binds me,
Set me not free! Set me not free!
Let me not flee Let me not flee
To any heart—to any heart To any heart—to any heart
That finds me! That finds me!
Thy heart alone, Thy heart alone,
That hears my moan, That hears my moan,
My prison be! My prison be!
Set me not free Set me not free
From thee—from thee! From thee—from thee!
From thee!
Thee!
Thee!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |