My love is now floating away from me

My love is now floating away from me
On the waves that in chorus are sounding,
As they rise from the vast and foaming sea,
O'er whose bosom his ship is bounding.
Sail on, sail on, with breezes fair,
And never from thy memory tear
The girl whose home is there.

Oh! if two eyes like the sun were mine,
Which might gaze o'er the world for ever;
Or could I beguile one grief of thine,
I would follow and leave thee never.
Though maiden shame restrains my will,
Though parted by rising wave and hill,
My soul is with thee still.

And though I have not the Athenian's art,
Which through air was his love's protection;
Yet, would but this earthly clay depart,—
With the guiding star of affection
My soul should lead the wanderer on.
With thee it goes—with thee 'tis gone—
Each thought is thine alone.

Were the voice of Stentor mine, for aye
Should that voice be heard beside thee;
But, alas! no words can force their way
Through the gather'd clouds that hide thee:
Yet though between us oceans roar,
My heart beyond all space will soar,
And speak with thine once more.

Were Medea's magic skill my own,
Not an adverse wind should alarm thee;
In his caves I would strike rude Æolus down,
That no breath might escape to harm thee:
Or steal from him a gentle gale,
To waft thee on, and never fail
Thy widely-spreading sail.

The winds and the waters of the sea,
The fix'd poles and the bright stars peeping—
Are dearer now than all else to me,
Since my love—light—life—are in their keeping.
O merciful Gods who o'er us move!
O Rulers of all around—above—
Protect and shield my love!

Thy pensive bride is weeping alone,
And tearing her hair asunder:—
Yes! thy turtle-dove doth nought but moan
Now the surges and tempests thunder.
Thou loved-one!—loved-one!—while apart,
What anguish fills her sorrowing heart
Who lives but where thou art!

My love is now floating away from me
On the waves that so loudly are sounding,
As they rise from the vast and foaming sea
O'er whose bosom his ship is bounding.
Sail on, sail on, with breezes fair,
And never from thy memory tear
The girl whose home is there.