Oran is no more

In vain to me the hours of care, When ev'ry daily toil is o'er; In my sad heart no hopes I find, For Oran is, alas! no more.

Nor sunny Africa could please, Nor friends upon my native shore; To me the dreary world's a cave, For Oran is, alas! no more.

In bow'rs of bliss, beyond the moon, The white man says, his sorrow's o'er: And comforts me with soothing hope, Tho' Oran is, alas! no more.

O come then, messenger of death, Convey me to the starry shore, Where I may meet with my true love. And never part with Oran more.