A strain of music echo'd o'er the deep,
And sounds of feet responsive to that strain;
'Tis midnight now-yet still in fitful sweep
Across the water comes that sound again:
And hark ! the glad shout of the festive train
Now mingles with the pibroch¹'s martial yell-
Oh, never to a mountaineer in vain
Is poured the music of his native dell,-
To him it speaks of things no language ere can tell !
The moon hath sunk-but still the heaven is bright,
And o'er the deep a cold effulgence throws;
No sound of pleasure now alarms the night-
The wearied heart of joy hath sought repose.
But hark ! it was a cry of woe that rose,
A cry of woe and terror-and the stroke
Of timber crashing in the fearful close
Of bark to bark, wild rushing to the shock
Far through the silent night in thunder-accents broke !
A pause! a momentary pause! - Where now
Are the gay revellers ?- Lo ! the splintered deck
Still hears a darken'd cloud; but mark ye how
That troubled mass doth heave, and toss, and break,
Like toiling waves by sunk-rocks held in check.
Again the wild, astounding cry of fear
Rings o'er the waters-while the shatter'd wreck
Half reels in madness round-its last career !-
Oh, must so many die-and yet is help so near?
Once more a shriek arose - a wilder shriek -
A cry of mortal anguish and despair;
Once more a hundred frantic voices break
Through the calm stillness of the midnight air.-,
'Tis past. Heard ye the rushing waters there -
The momentary plash-the choking groan?
Where is the gallant vessel now -- and where
The hearts that beat so high an hour agone?
Over their lowly bed the night-wave maketh moan !
Alas for them, the beautiful - the brave -
The young-the loved - the happy - the rever'd:
Cold was their portion in the gloomy wave,
Far from the home to which they were endear'd;
Far from the friends who every pang had cheered;
But many a stranger's heart for them hath bled
And often yet when Dian's_lamp¹ appeared
O'er yonder hill shall light their watery bed,
The silent tear for them shall unrestrained be shed.