Ah, where like now those locks that lately streamed

Ah, where lie now those locks that lately streamed
'Mid gales that fanned in vain the fevered cheek?
Low let them rest, ye winds,
The heart now rests in peace.

How vainly, while the tortured bosom heaved,
Restless as waves that lashed the sea-beat haunt,
We strove to cool that cheek
Which death too quickly chilled!

Like wreaths of mist that some lone rock o'erhang,
And seem intent to melt the crags away,
While with soft veil they hide
Its tempest-riven head;

We hovered round thee on the lonesome beach,
And sought to calm thy brow with dewy hand,
Thy wild unquiet eye
With pitying glances met.

‘O fly with us,’ we whispered; ‘from glad hearts,
From mirthful bands that meet on moon-light shores,
We came to watch thee pace
This melancholy strand.

‘A captive thou, an exile here confined;
But fatal passion to more galling chains,
To exile more unblest,
Thy blinded spirit dooms.

‘O fly with us; no dangerous choice we know,
Mild heavenly influence guides our gentle lives,
Obedient as yon tide,
Swayed by the circling moon.

‘O fly with us, free, free as ocean gale,
To roam at large, released from sorrow's power.’—
Ah no!—far happier scenes,
More blissful change, be thine!

Through fields of radiance let thy spirit stray,
While these fair relics, shrined in ocean's depth,
Shall gleam like purest pearl,
Caressed by winds and waves.
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