Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

206
THE ATTEMPT
3% bailor’s Dw^
He is sleeping ’neath the tide,
Far from home and loving bride,
And the wild waves are surging all unheeded o’er his head.
He is gone for evermore,
From his pleasant native shore,
He is number’d with the ocean’s prey—the sea-devoured dead.
’Heath the placid ocean wave,
He has found a wat’ry grave,
And his head is pillowed lightly on the blossoms of the deep;
Ships unheeded o’er him glide,
E’en the swellings of the tide
Cannot break the chains that bind him in the arms of endless sleep.
Ho one knows his place of rest;
On the ocean’s heaving breast
He was flung, when lurid light’ning swept athwart the darkened sky,
When the ruthless tempest played,
And his sceptre Havoc swayed,
And the master tyrant Death looked on with triumph in his eye.
All too well he played his part,
Stilled the beatings of his heart,
From its fragile mortal dwelling chased the frighted soul away;
Powerless lay the stalwart frame,
Quenched the life-sustaining flame,
And he who once had lived and loved was nought but breathless clay.
Megaig Bheg.