But I’ll flee, I’ll flee to my ocean cave;
My palace there—it shall be my grave,
And the deep shall o’er me flow.
Yet, death to the foe!—for again I come
Up, up from the depths of my ocean home—
But, ah!—in a shroud of the white sea-foam
An expiring thing I lie.
And I see, in this darkly flashing light,
Which coldly falls on my misty sight,
Like the elfish glare of a polar night,