Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By The SailorSelleck Osborn (17831826)
T
Along the wave dire omens sweep—
From the veil’d sky no friendly star
Beams on the undulating deep.
The Lom emits his dismal cry—
The wave portentous warning roars,
And speaks the threatening tempest nigh.
Shall snatch me from the angry deep,
Or bid, in that tremendous hour,
The demon of the waters sleep?
I drift, weak, famished and distrest,
Shall hush the sorrows of my child,
Or soothe Lavinia’s wounded breast?
For you with aching heart I mourn;
Far from your peaceful vale I rove,
Ah! hopeless ever to return!
To hail again my native shore,
Secure within my humble cot,
I ’ll brave the restless deep no more.”
Rode through the storm with stubborn pride;
And William, blithe as morning lark,
Flew to his sweet enraptured bride.
Ere yet a month had pass’d in glee,
Forgot the terrors of the storm,
And, singing, squared away for sea!