The dancing moon-beam kissed the deep,
And Zephyr breathed his sweetest sigh,
When Mary, from the rocky steep,
Watched the white sail that glided by.
The sparkling wave, that dashed along,
And bore on high its snowy crest,
With hoarse and deeply-murmured song,
Had soothed the woes in Mary's breast.
Blest orb ! she said, with tearful eye,
Whose beams yon foamy ocean streak,
Thy modest ray, more blest than I,
Oh! plays it now on Henry's cheek ?

And thou, too swiftly passing wave,
Thou near my love mayest quickly be,
Then will thy glittering waters lave
The bark that bore him far from me ?