There was a tale of one forsaken Maid,
Who till her death the work of vengeance stay’d;
Her Lover, then at sea, while round him stood
A dauntless crew, the angry ghost pursued;
In a small boat, without an oar or sail,
She came to call him, nor would force avail,
Nor prayer; but, conscience-stricken, down he leapt, 90
And o’er his corse the closing billows slept;
All vanish’d then! but of the crew were some
Wondering whose ghost would on the morrow come.