And I'll promise whenever yon greet me
That I'll never be lonely again.
DUBLIN BAY.
BY MRS. CRAWFORD.
He sail'd away in a gallant bark,
Roy Neill and his fair young bride;
He had ventur'd all in that bounding ark.
That danced o'er the silver tide.
But his heart was young and his spirit light.
And he dashed the tear away,
As he watched the shore recede from sight,
Of his own sweet Dublin Bay.
Three days they sail'd, and a storm arose,
And the lightning swept the deep,
And the thunder-crash broke the short repose.
Of the weary sea-boy's sleep.
Roy Neill, he clasped his weeping bride,
And he kiss'd her tears away,
"Oh, love 't was a fatal hour," she cried,
"When we left sweet Dublin Bay."
On the crowded deck of the doomed ship,
Some stood in their mute despair;
And some more calm, with a holy lip,
Sought the God of the storm in prayer.
"She has struck on the rock!" the seamen cried,
In the breath of their wild dismay,
