I.
Oh, land of mine adoption,
Much loveliness is thing;
Tho’ thy fruitful vales produce not
The olive, fig, and vine;<<339>>
Yet thy beauties are unheeded,
Or coldly viewed by me,
Thou land of western loveliness,
Fair daughter of the sea.
II.
For I turn to my distant land,
Now rendered lone and wild,
With the deep and passionate yearning
Of one from home exiled;
For tho’ she sits forsaken,
And her children are in thrall,
Yet Zion’s sorrowing daughter
Is beautiful withal.
