When home-bound ships from port are driv’n,
And dolphins roll, and mermaids sing;
Then shall pain and sickness come,
Storms abroad, and woes at home.
When the black ox shall tread with his foot
On the green growing saplin’s tender root;
Then a stranger shall stand in Glenarvon’s hall,
And his portals shall blaze and his turrets shall fall.
Glenarvon, the day of thy glory is o’er;
Thou shalt sail from hence, but return no more.