Vainly toward a fading shore,
It shall rest on nevermore."
Said I: "Betide, some good ships ride,
Over all the waters wide;
Spread your wings upon the blast,
Let it bear you far and fast:
In some sea, serene and blue,
Succor-ships are waiting you."
This soul then said: "Would I were dead—
Billows rolling o'er my head!