Of billows sings her funeral song;—
In sooth, it was a dreadful tone,
And it will haunt us long.
This is the brief and mournful tale
Of one who loved in vain;—
She slept not in the flowery vale,
But in the deep, deep main,
They tell she was a demon's bride,
But now a wondrous wail,
Each night swells o'er the peaceful tide,