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394 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Lone evening came down on the wanderer's track, And to Ara again he looked timidly back; Oh ! far on the verge of the ocean it lay, Yet the isle of the blest was away, far away !
Rash dreamer, return ! O ye winds of the main, Bear him back to his own peaceful Ara again. Rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss, To barter thy calm life of labor and peace. The warning of reason was spoke in vain ; He never revisited Ara again ! Night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray, And-he died on the waters away, far away ! |
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THE WAKE OF THE ABSENT
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HE dismal yew and cypress tall Wave o'er the churchyard lone, Where rest our friends and fathers all, Beneath the funeral stone. Unvexed in holy ground they sleep,
Oh ! early lost! o'er thee No sorrowing friend shall ever weep, Nor stranger bend the knee. Mo Chuma !' lorn am I! Hoarse dashing rolls the salt sea wave Over our perished darling's grave.
The winds the sullen deep that tore His death-song chanted loud, |
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' Mo Chuma : My grief; or, Woe is me. |
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