93 
the free air, and more than all, the faces of beloved 
friends. 
“ My native land is Austria ; where the sun shines 
bright, but not upon happy fields ; where the air 
flows fresh, but loaded with the sighs of the mis¬ 
erable. My former possessor,* when he was carried 
from his own beloved country to my unhappy one, 
took me from the brook side as he went into the 
dungeon, and sent me to his friend, an emblem of 
his dark fate. 
“ He was good and kind, and loved little children, 
as well as flowers; and was willing to spend his 
life in doing them good ; and in restoring his be¬ 
loved country to the freedom and happiness it en¬ 
joyed before the stranger oppressed it. But the 
King of mine—alas, that my dear native sky should 
look down upon so hard a heart!—was afraid of 
* An Italian exile. 
