The Rock Of The Betrayed

by Caroline Sheridon Norton

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He was thinking of the native land
Whose breeze he could not bear;
Whose wild free beauty he must leave,
To breathe a warmer air.

He was dreaming of his childhood's haunts,
And his grey-haired father's praise;
And the chance of death which hung so near
And darkened his young days.

So he turned, and bade them both farewell,
With a calm and mournful smile;
And he spoke of dwelling far away,
But only for a while.

And if a pang of bitter grief
Shot wildly through his heart,
No man heard Allan Douglas sigh,
Nor saw the tear-drop start:

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