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Thus Ellen, on the beach reclin'd, View'd the tall bark, with dewy eye,Her sails unfurling to the wind That from the north came whistling by.
And as she gaz'd in wild despair, The boat advances to the land;She sees the gallant hero there, And soon he springs upon the strand.
His was each youthful, manly grace, But his the giddy wand'ring mind,That found a love in ev'ry place, And shifted with the shifting wind.
Poor Ellen's was the fondest heart, Form'd all to tenderness and love,And free from ev'ry little art, And mild and gentle as the dove.
"Farewell, sweet maid! farewell!" he cried, "On you may love and rapture smile,While I the boist'rous billows ride, Far, far from you, and Thule's isle.
Old Ocean's bosom is my home, And war the mistress I must woo;For you may thornless roses bloom— Sweet Thulean maid! adieu, adieu!"
