Esmeralda In Prison

 ("Phoebus, n'est-il sur la terre?") 
 
 {OPERA OF "ESMERALDA," ACT IV., 1836.} 


 Phoebus, is there not this side the grave, 
 Power to save 
 Those who're loving? Magic balm 
 That will restore to me my former calm? 
 Is there nothing tearful eye 
 Can e'er dry, or hush the sigh? 
 I pray Heaven day and night, 
 As I lay me down in fright, 
 To retake my life, or give 
 All again for which I'd live! 
 Phoebus, hasten from the shining sphere 
 To me here! 
 Hither hasten, bring me Death; then Love 
 May let our spirits rise, ever-linked, above! 


 

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