| [00:12.64] |
She is far from the land |
| [00:19.14] |
where her young hero sleeps, |
| [00:23.41] |
And lovers are round her, sighing; |
| [00:30.51] |
But coldly she turns |
| [00:35.19] |
from their gaze, and weeps, |
| [00:40.68] |
For her heart in his grave is lying. |
| [00:58.75] |
She sings the wild song |
| [01:03.02] |
of her dear native plains, |
| [01:06.68] |
Every note which he loved awaking; |
| [01:12.57] |
Ah! little they think, |
| [01:16.84] |
who delight in her strains, |
| [01:21.70] |
How the heart of the Minstrel |
| [01:29.83] |
is breaking. |
| [01:50.75] |
He had lived for his love, |
| [01:54.81] |
for his country he died, |
| [01:58.68] |
They were all that to life had entwined him; |
| [02:07.20] |
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, |
| [02:14.72] |
Nor long will his Love stay behind him. |
| [02:39.71] |
Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, |
| [02:51.08] |
When they promise a glorious morrow; |
| [02:59.21] |
They'll shine o'er her sleep, |
| [03:04.89] |
like a smile from the West, |
| [03:10.78] |
From her own loved island of sorrow. |
