AMONGST the thunder-splintered caves On Ocean's long and windy shore,I catch the voice of dying waves Below the ridges old and hoar;The spray descends in silver showers,And lovely whispers come and go,Like echoes from the happy hours I never more may hope to know!
The low mimosa droops with locks Of yellow hair,in dewy glade,While far above the caverned rocks I hear the dark Bellambi's Maid!
The moonlight dreams upon the sail That drives the restless ship to sea;The clouds troop past the mountain vale,And sink like spirits down the lee;The foggy peak of Corrimal,Uplifted,bears the pallid glow That streams from yonder airy hall And robes the sleeping hills below;The wandering meteors of the sky Beneath the distant waters wade,While mystic music hurries by -The songs of dark Bellambi's Maid!
Why comes your voice,you lonely One,Along the wild harp's wailing strings?
Have not our hours of meeting gone,Like fading dreams on phantom wings?
Are not the grasses round your grave Yet springing green and fresh to view?
And does the gleam on Ocean's wave Tide gladness now to me and you?
Oh!cold and cheerless falls the night On withered hearts and hopes decayed:
And I have seen but little light Since died the dark Bellambi's Maid!
