Her mighty sails the breezes swell,
And fast she leaves the lessening land.
And from the shore the last farewell
Is waved by many a snowy hand ;
And weeping eyes are on the main,
Until its verge she wanders o’er;
But, from the hour of parting pain,
That bark was never heard of more !
In her was many a mother’s joy,
And love of many a weeping fair ;
For her was wafted, in its sigh,
The lonely heart’s unceasing prayer ;
And, oh ! the thousand hopes untold
Of ardent youth, that vessel bore ;
Say, were they quenched in waters cold ?
For she was never heard of more !
When on her wide and trackless path
Of desolation, doomed to flee,
Say, sank she ‘midst the blending wrath
Of racking cloud and rolling sea ?
Or, where the land but mocks the eye,
Went drifting on a fatal shore ?
Vain guesses all—her destiny
Is dark—she ne’er was heard of more !
The moon hath twelve times changed her form,
From glowing orb to crescent wan ;
‘Mid skies of calm, and scowl of storm,
Since from her port that ship hath gone ;
But ocean keeps its secret well,
And though we know that all is o’er,
No eye hath seen—no tongue can tell
Her fate—she ne’er was heard of more !
Oh ! were her tale of sorrow known,
‘Twere something to the broken-heart,
The pangs of doubt would then be gone,
And Fancy’s endless dreams depart :
It may not be !—there is no ray
By which her doom we may explore ;
We only know she sailed away,
And ne’er was seen nor heard of more !