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7
I stand upon the rocky shore,
The rocky hills behind.
I spy the distant ship afar,
That’s driven with the wind.
I see the waves around her rise,
Ten thousand billows roar;
The foaming surges lash the skies
Behind her and before.
Unto the winds I gave a sigh,
Unto the waves a tear;
Up to the skies I send my cry,
O for my dearest dear.
Kind Providence, oh! hear my voice,
Oh, wilt thou her life save?
Oh, keep her from the sunken rocks,
And from a watery grave.
For, though she’s borne awa’ frae me,
Across the raging main,
Our hapless loves may yet revive,
Were we to meet again.
THE CHOUGH AND CROW.
The chough and crow to roost are gone,
The owl sits on the tree,
The hush’d wind wails with feeble moan,
Like infant charity.
