160
the last of the gascoignes.
I almost wish that the fierce eddying waves
Had claimed me, in some mid-night storm;
Aye! and better far, if I had ne'er been born.
When the bright morning came, there still it found
The poor lone sailor boy!—by the mossy mound.
The lark sang merrily to the new-born day,
My heart was sad—now bent on my homeward way!
Fourteen long years having now rolled by,
Yet how often in my sad mid-night dream
Again and again rose that mournful scene.
Tho' I have since sailed to many a land,
And have trod on many a distant strand.
Gascoigne, the sun-beam of my life is gone,
And only the spectres now pale and wan
Of that sorrowful past, to me for ever remain,
And the sole hope that we may meet again.
From all worldly grief and all care set free,
To live in heaven, in peaceful unity!
Now Gascoigne all my history you have heard,
In my poor, plain, and homely word;—
And if dear Gascoigne you have learnt my stay,
'Twill guide thee through life's dangerous way!"
Had claimed me, in some mid-night storm;
Aye! and better far, if I had ne'er been born.
When the bright morning came, there still it found
The poor lone sailor boy!—by the mossy mound.
The lark sang merrily to the new-born day,
My heart was sad—now bent on my homeward way!
Fourteen long years having now rolled by,
Yet how often in my sad mid-night dream
Again and again rose that mournful scene.
Tho' I have since sailed to many a land,
And have trod on many a distant strand.
Gascoigne, the sun-beam of my life is gone,
And only the spectres now pale and wan
Of that sorrowful past, to me for ever remain,
And the sole hope that we may meet again.
From all worldly grief and all care set free,
To live in heaven, in peaceful unity!
Now Gascoigne all my history you have heard,
In my poor, plain, and homely word;—
And if dear Gascoigne you have learnt my stay,
'Twill guide thee through life's dangerous way!"
Bright and fair, arose the early dawn
Dispersing the grey dews of the lovely morn:—
The calm, was broken by a freshening breeze
Dispersing the grey dews of the lovely morn:—
The calm, was broken by a freshening breeze
