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the spirit's voyage.
But look!—the boat is seen no more;
The mourning train have left the shore;
And, hark! those accents sad and wild!
Our island chief laments his child."
The mourning train have left the shore;
And, hark! those accents sad and wild!
Our island chief laments his child."
THE LAMENT.
No more!—ah! never, never more!
Her precious feet will tread,
Like light, our dwelling's coral floor,[1]
By young affection led;
Her precious feet will tread,
Like light, our dwelling's coral floor,[1]
By young affection led;
Those little feet, whose graceful fall,
So airy and so gay,
Broke not the frailest shell of all
That glitter'd in her way.
So airy and so gay,
Broke not the frailest shell of all
That glitter'd in her way.
No more! Ah! never, never more,
Her glancing hands will braid
Our painted mats to shade the door,
Where warm the noontide play'd!
Her glancing hands will braid
Our painted mats to shade the door,
Where warm the noontide play'd!
- ↑ The floor of the hut is strewed with fragments of coral and shell.
