Oh! since the rising of the sun,
Upon the shore I've stood,
To be the first to welcome home
A lover, brave and good:
But o'er the troubled sea, alas!
No lover comes to me.
The waves in thunder lash the strand,
The rough wind chills my cheek,
And oh, I almost dread to view
The vessel that I seek!
But o'er the troubled sea, alas!
No lover comes to me.
And now the day is almost past,
The distant tide grows dark,
Yet indistinctly I behold
A storm-struck helpless bark!
Now o'er the troubled sea, alas!
A lover comes to me.
Is there no hope? will none go forth
A fellow man to save?
The ocean was his battle-field,
The ocean is his grave!
And o'er the troubled sea, alas!
No lover comes to me.
~ Текст приведён по изданию «Songs, Ballads and Other Poems by the Late Thomas Haynes Bayly», Vol. II, London, 1844