Waft him safely to the shore.

"Lovely art thou crested billow,
On thy whiteness rests his eye,
Thou art to his bark a pillow,
Thou dost hear his ev'ry sigh.

"Would I were yon dolphin dancing
Round his fragile vessel's stern;
Ev'ry gaze my soul entrancing,
I would woo him though he spurn."

Here she rais'd her eyes, to the once bright skies,
For she heard the deep sea groan,
And her song it stopp'd, and her hands they drop'd,
Her face grew white as the foam;
For the lovely blue, was hid from her view,
By a black and mighty cloud!
She saw in each wave, a watery grave,
And again she sang aloud:

"But the clouds are rolling heavy,
Fitful gusts distend his sail;
See the whirlpool's foaming eddy,
Hear the seagull's mournful wail.

"Now his vessel greets the thunder,
Now she rests on ocean's bed,
Where in shrines of pearl and amber,
Youthful lovers, love, though dead.