I.
O, who could lie a-snoring
Or who carousing be
While such a storm is roaring
And raving o'er the sea?...
A Ship to death is drifting.
Faint hands in prayer uplifting,
With hearts in anguish failing,
The wives and mothers, wailing,
Look out from cliff and lea;
And beacon-fires are glowing,
And, fierce and fiercer growing,
The sleety blasts are blowing
O'er rock and roof and tree.
Come out from giddy dances
And songs and vain romances
And idle dreams and trances,
And man the boat with me.