Where is the Sea?
Song of the Greek islander in Exile
Song of the Greek islander in Exile
A Greek Islander, being taken to the Vale of Tempe, and called upon to admire its beauty, only replied—“The sea—where is it?”
Where is is the sea?—I languish here—
Where is my own blue sea?
With all its barks in fleet career,
And flags, and breezes free.
I miss that voice of waves, which first
Awoke my childhood’s glee;
The measured chime—the thundering burst—
Where is my own blue sea?
Oh! rich your myrtle’s breath may rise,
Soft, soft your winds may be;
Yet my sick heart within me dies—
Where is my own blue sea?
I hear the shepherd’s mountain flute—
I hear the whispering tree;—
The echoes of my soul are mute:
—Where is my own blue sea?