THE MANIAC'S SONG.
COME, ye wild winds, that round the welkin fly,
Bear the sad Lelia on your wings of air,
Then shall she downward cast a pitying eye
On all the troubled sons of toilsome care.
I had a friend, she prov'd unkind;
I had a love, he prov'd untrue;
Where they are fled, I cannot find;
A dark dark cloud obscures my view.
Hark! is not that a passing bell?
Affection in the grave is laid;
Some kindred spirit tolls her knell,
And love, perhaps, himself is dead.
When the cock crows, and morn is come,
A pilgrim grey I'll seek their tomb:
Ah no, alas! my hands are bound,
Dark walls and grates inclose me round,
Sad Lelia sits alone on the cold cold ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem