A Dirge

This morn, thy gallant bark, love,
Sail'd on the sunny sea;
Tis noon, and tempests dark, love,
Have wreck'd it on the lee.

Ah, woe! ah, woe! ah, woe!
By spirits of the deep
He's cradled on the billow,
To his unwaking sleep!

Thou liest upon the shore, love,
Beside the swelling surge;
But sea-nymphs ever more, love,
Shall sadly chant thy dirge.

O come! O come! O come
Ye spirits of the deep !
While near his sea- weed pillow,
My lonely watch I keep.
From far across the sea, love,
I hear a wild lament,
By Echo's voice, for thee, love,
From ocean's caverns sent:
O list! O list ! O list !
The spirits of the deep
Loud sounds their wail of sorrow,
While I for ever weep!

The Keepsake, 1830.