Mawgan of Melhuach

'Twas a fierce night when old Mawgan died,
Men shuddered to hear the rolling tide :
The wreckers fled fast from the awful shore,
They had heard strange voices amid the roar.

" Out with the boat there," some one cried, —
" Will he never come ? we shall lose the tide :
His berth is trim and his cabin stored,
He's a weary long time coming on board."

The old man struggled upon the bed :
He knew the words that the voices said ;
Wildly he shriek'd as his eyes grew dim,
" He was dead ! he was dead ! when I buried him."

Hark yet again to the devilish roar !
" He was nimbler once with a ship on shore ;
" Come ! come ! old man, 'tis a vain delay,
" We must make the offing by break of day."

Hard was the struggle, but at the last,
With a stormy pang old Mawgan pass'd,
And away, away, beneath their sight,
Gleam'd the red sail at pitch of night.