The curling moonlight waves among;
No footsteps mark’d the slanting sand
Where she had seen her Henry stand!
She saw him o’er the billows go—
She heard the rising breezes blow;
She shriek’d aloud! The echoing steep
Frown’d darkness on the troubled deep;
The moon in cloudy veil was seen,
And louder howl’d the night blast keen!—
And when the morn, in splendour dress’d,