THE FISHERMAN’S BRIDAL.
AFTER DELAVIGNE.
The sea is high, the night is dark,
Sweet son, O why unmoor thy bark
Before the morning?
On such a night as this last year,
I fain had kept thy brother here;
O heed the warning.
But the fisherman smiling
Bounded from shore,
His labor beguiling,
Bending the oar,
Singing, she loveth me,
No fear I know,
No wave appalleth me,
Loving her so.
With white wing cleft the inky sky,
A sea-bird with a plaintive cry,
Saddening the air:
The nest I built with so much toil,
This night became the tempest’s spoil;
Beware, beware!
Still the fisherman smiling,
Bending the oar,
The darkness beguiling,
Sang as before:
My Nanna calleth me,
No fear I know,
No wave appalleth me,
Loving her so.
Faintly arose a sad appeal,
Blent with the storm by which his keel
Was rudely driven.
O brother, ere thy knell shall toll,
Pray for thy elder brother’s soul,
Who died unshriven.
But the message unheeded
Its warning bore,
As onward he speeded,
Bending the oar,
Murmuring, she calleth me,
No fear I know,
No wave appalleth me,
Loving her so.
Weary at dawn he reached the strand,
But lo, there passed a mourning band;
For whom? he cried.
For whom, O fishermen, that bell
That strikes upon my heart its knell?
’Tis for thy bride.
Then as if on the shore,
Stricken down by a dart,
Deep darkness came o’er
Him, chilling his heart,
Whispering, she calleth me,
No fear I know,
No wave appalleth me,
Loving her so.