They must sink to rise no more.
Wrecks along the shore are lying,
On the heaving surges tossed;
Mournful winds and waves are sighing,
Ocean’s requiem for the lost;
Mighty dome, by tempest shattered,
Billows o’er thee darkly sweep,
Treasure far more precious, scattered
In the bosom of the deep.
Far beneath the rolling billow,