The Drowned Lover

9High swelled in her bosom the throb of affection,

10As lightly her form bounded over the lea,

11And arose in her mind every dear recollection;

12'I come, dearest Henry, and wait but for thee.'

13How sad, when dear hope every sorrow is soothing,

14When sympathy's swell the soft bosom is moving,

15And the mind the mild joys of affection is proving,

16Is the stern voice of fate that bids happiness flee!

17Oh! dark lowered the clouds on that horrible eve,

18And the moon dimly gleamed through the tempested air;

19Oh! how could fond visions such softness deceive?

20Oh! how could false hope rend, a bosom so fair?

21Thy love's pallid corse the wild surges are laving,

22O'er his form the fierce swell of the tempest is raving;

23But, fear not, parting spirit; thy goodness is saving,

24In eternity's bowers, a seat for thee there.