Classic Poem

[FROM THE SAME]
How long will ye round me be swelling,
O ye blue-tumbling waves of the Sea?
Not always in Caves was my dwelling,
Nor beneath the cold blast of the Tree.
Through the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma
In the steps of my Beauty I strayed;
The warriors beheld Ninathóma,
And they blesséd the white-bosom'd Maid!
A Ghost! by my Cavern it darted!
In moon-beams the Spirit was drest--
For lovely appear the Departed
When they visit the dreams of my Rest!
But disturb'd by the Tempest's commotion
Fleet the shadowy forms of Delight--
Ah cease, thou shrill blast of the Ocean!
To howl thro' my Cavern by Night.