Would these three spirits meet me ere the close;
To hear and mark them daily was my doom,
And ‘Come,’ they said, with weak, sad voices, ‘Come.’
To row away, with all my strength I tried,
But there were they hard by me in the tide,
The three unbodied forms - and ‘Come, still come,’ they cried.
“Fathers should pity - but this old man shook
His hoary locks, and froze me by a look:
Thrice when I struck them, through the water came
A hollow groan, that weaken’d all my frame: