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Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
A few dear objects, will in sadness feel
His house, his home, his heritage, his lands,
Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine,
The sails were fill’d, and fair the light winds blew,
One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept,
XIII. But when the sun was sinking in the sea He seized his harp, which he at times could string, And strike, albeit with untaught melody, When deem'd he no strange ear was listening: And now his fingers o'er it he did fling, And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight. While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,
And fleeting shores receded from his sight, Thus to the elements he pour'd his last “ Good Night.”
Fades o'er the waters blue;
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
We follow in his flight;
My native Land-Good Night!
“ A few short hours and he will rise
To give the morrow birth ;
But not my mother earth.
Its hearth is desolate; While weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.
“Come hither, hither, my little page!
Why dost thou weep and wail? Or dost thou dread the billows' rage,
Or tremble at the gale ? But dash the tear-drop from thine eye;
Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along."
• Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave nor wind;
Am sorrowful in mind;
A mother whom I love,
But thee--and one above.
· My father bless’d me fervently,
Yet did not much complain; But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again.'— “ Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye; If I thy guileless bosom had,
Mine own would not be dry.
6 “Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,
Why dost thou look so pale?
Or shiver at the gale ?”—
Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; But thinking on an absent wife
Will blanch a faithful cheek.
• My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along the bordering lake,
What answer shall she make ?
Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.
“For, who would trust the seeming sighs
Of wife or paramour ?
We late saw streaming o'er.
Nor perils gathering near;
No thing that claims a tear.
“ And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea :
When none will sigh for me?
Till fed by stranger hands ; But long ere I come back again
He'd tear me where he stands.
10 “With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves !
And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves !
My native Land-Good Night!"