Behold him on the lonely isle,
Of home, of friends, of all bereft,
His vessel far away the while,
And he to solitude is left.

His faithful dog alone is there,
Who clinging to his master’s side,
So willing all his grief to share,
Whatever evil may betide.

The exile o’er his wide domain,
Extends his glance of lordly pride;
But ah! he feels such pride is vain,
For all is lost to him beside.

His country, friends, all, all are gone,
No relative to cheer his woe—
But there shall come a brighter morn,
And to his native land he’ll go.