Smiling o’er the fatal tide.”
Kirke White. Gondoline.
“The maid was seen no more; but oft
Her ghost is known to glide
At midnight’s silent, solemn hour
Along the ocean’s tide.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“Sweet Vale of Avoca, how calm could I rest
In the bosom of shade with the friends I love best;
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,