AIR--_'He 's dear to me, though far frae me.'_
The tempest is raging
And rending the shrouds;
The ocean is waging
A war with the clouds;
The cordage is breaking,
The canvas is torn,
The timbers are creaking--
The seamen forlorn.

The water is gushing
Through hatches and seams;
'Tis roaring and rushing
O'er keelson and beams;
And nought save the lightning
On mainmast or boom,
At intervals brightening
The palpable gloom.

Though horrors beset me,
And hurricanes howl,
I may not forget thee,
Beloved of my soul!
Though soon I must perish
In ocean beneath,
Thine image I 'll cherish,
Adored one! in death.