text:  And oft the midnight sail shall wander By that lone isle thy prison-place And oft a stranger there shall ponder And o'er that stone a pardon trace Where mused the Exile oft recalling The well-known clang of sword and lance The yells Night's icy ear appalling; His own blue sky--the sky of France; Where in his loneliness forgetting His broken sword his ruin'd throne With bitter grief with vain regretting On his fair Boy he mused alone