Call Me Away
Call
me
away;
there's
nothing
here,
That
wins
my
soul
to
stay;
Then
let
me
leave
this
prospect
drear,
And
hasten
far
away.
To
our
beloved
land
I'll
flee,
Our
land
of
thought
and
soul,
Where
I
have
roved
so
oft
with
thee,
Beyond
the
world's
control.
I'll
sit
and
watch
those
ancient
trees,
Those
Scotch
firs
dark
and
high;
I'll
listen
to
the
eerie
breeze,
Among
their
branches
sigh.
The
glorious
moon
shines
far
above;
How
soft
her
radiance
falls,
On
snowy
heights,
and
rock,
and
grove;
And
yonder
palace
walls!
Who
stands
beneath
yon
fir
trees
high?
A
youth
both
slight
and
fair,
Whose
bright
and
restless
azure
eye
Proclaims
him
known
to
care,
Though
fair
that
brow,
it
is
not
smooth;
Though
small
those
features,
yet
in
sooth
Stern
passion
has
been
there.
Now
on
the
peaceful
moon
are
fixed
Those
eyes
so
glistening
bright,
But
trembling
teardrops
hang
betwixt,
And
dim
the
blessed
light.
Though
late
the
hour,
and
keen
the
blast,
That
whistles
round
him
now,
Those
raven
locks
are
backward
cast,
To
cool
his
burning
brow.
His
hands
above
his
heaving
breast
Are
clasped
in
agony
—
'O
Father!
Father!
let
me
rest!
And
call
my
soul
to
thee!
I
know
'tis
weakness
thus
to
pray;
But
all
this
cankering
care
—
This
doubt
tormenting
night
and
day
Is
more
than
I
can
bear!
With
none
to
comfort,
none
to
guide
And
none
to
strengthen
me.
Since
thou
my
only
friend
hast
died
—
I've
pined
to
follow
thee!
Since
thou
hast
died!
And
did
he
live
What
comfort
could
his
counsel
give
—
To
one
forlorn
like
me?
Would
he
my
Idol's
form
adore
—
Her
soul,
her
glance,
her
tone?
And
say,
"Forget
for
ever
more
Her
kindred
and
thine
own;
Let
dreams
of
her
thy
peace
destroy,
Leave
every
other
hope
and
joy
And
live
for
her
alone"?'
He
starts,
he
smiles,
and
dries
the
tears,
Still
glistening
on
his
cheek,
The
lady
of
his
soul
appears,
And
hark!
I
hear
her
speak
—
'Aye,
dry
thy
tears;
thou
wilt
not
weep
—
While
I
am
by
thy
side
—
Our
foes
all
day
their
watch
may
keep
But
cannot
thus
divide
Such
hearts
as
ours;
and
we
tonight
Together
in
the
clear
moon's
light
Their
malice
will
deride.
No
fear
our
present
bliss
shall
blast
And
sorrow
we'll
defy.
Do
thou
forget
the
dreary
past,
The
dreadful
future
I.'
Forget
it?
Yes,
while
thou
art
by
I
think
of
nought
but
thee,
'Tis
only
when
thou
art
not
nigh
Remembrance
tortures
me.
But
such
a
lofty
soul
to
find,
And
such
a
heart
as
thine,
In
such
a
glorious
form
enshrined
And
still
to
call
thee
mine
—
Would
be
for
earth
too
great
a
bliss,
Without
a
taint
of
woe
like
this,
Then
why
should
I
repine?
