Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 14 1825/Ulla, or the Adjuration
The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 14, Pages 259-260
ULLA, OR THE ADJURATION.
"Thou 'rt gone! thou 'rt slumbering low
With the sounding seas above thee,
It is but a restless woe,
But a haunting dream to love thee!
Thrice the glad swan has sung
To greet the sunny hours,
Since thine oar at parting flung
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou 'rt surely of them—come!"
'Twas Ulla's voice!—alone she stood
In the Iceland summer night,
Far gazing o'er a glassy flood,
"I know thou hast thy bed
Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee.
The storm sweeps o'er thy head,
What wind shall point the way
To the chambers where thou rt lying?
—Come to me thence, and say
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou 'rt surely of them—speak!"
She listen'd—'twas the wind's low moan,
'Twas the ripple of the wave;
'Twas the wakening osprey's cry alone,
"I know each fearful spell
Of the ancient Runic lay,
Whose mutter'd words compel
The tempests to obey!
But I adjure not thee
By magic, sign, or song,
My voice shall stir the sea
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou 'rt surely of them—rise!"
Again she gazed with an eager glance,
Wandering and wildly bright;
—She saw but the sparkling water's dance
"By the slow and struggling death
Of Hope that loath'd to part,
By the fierce and withering breath
Of Despair on Youth's high heart,
By the weight of gloom which clings
To the mantle of the night,
By the heavy dawn which brings
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—awake, arise, appear!"
Was it her yearning spirit's dream,
Or did a pale form rise,
And o'er the hush'd wave glide and gleam,
"Have the depths heard?—they have!
My voice prevails—thou 'rt there!
Dim from thy watery grave,
Oh! thou that wert so fair!
Yet take me to thy rest!
There dwells no fear with love,
Let me slumber on thy breast,
We will sleep among the ocean's dead!—stay for me—stay! I come!"
There was a sullen plunge below,
A flashing on the main,
And the wave shut o'er that wild heart's woe,