A dreamless and unbroken sleep;

And the lulled ocean seemed to say,

“With me is quiet,—come away.”

There is a tale that oft has stirred

My bosom deeply: you have heard

How that the treacherous sea-maid’s art

With song inveigles the lost heart

Of some lone fisher, that has stood

For days beside the glimmering flood;

And when has grown upon him there

The mystery of earth and air,

He cannot find with whom to part

The burden lying at his heart;

So when the mermaid bids him come,{13}

{13}

And summons to her peaceful home,

He hears—he leaps into the wave,

To find a home, and not a grave.

Anon I said I would not die;

I loathed to live—I feared to die—

 Prev. P 11/162 next