ULLA, OR THE ADJURATION. Yet speak to me! I have outwatch'd the stars, Manfred. "THOU'RT gone!-thou'rt slumbering low, With the sounding seas above thee; It is but a restless wo, But a haunting dream to love thee! Thrice the glad swan has sung, To greet the spring-time hours, Since thine oar at parting flung The white spray up in showers. There's a shadow of the grave on thy hearth and round thy home; Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou'rt surely of them-come!" 'Twas Ulla's voice-alone she stood In the Iceland summer night, Far gazing o'er a glassy flood, From a dark rock's beetling height. "I know thou hast thy bed Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee; The storm sweeps o'er thy head, But the depths are hush'd around thee. What wind shall point the way To the chambers where thou'rt lying? Come to me thence, and say If thou thought'st on me in dying? I will not shrink to see thee with a bloodless lip and cheek Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou'rt surely of them-speak!" She listened 'twas the wind's low moan, 'Twas the ripple of the wave, 'Twas the wakening ospray's cry alone, As it started from its cave. "I know each fearful spell Of the ancient Runic lay, Whose mutter'd words compel But I adjure not thee By magic sign or song, My voice shall stir the sea By love, the deep, the strong! By the might of woman's tears, by the passion of her sighs, Come to me from the ocean's dead by the vows we pledg'd-arise!" Again she gaz'd with an eager glance, She saw but the sparkling waters dance "By the slow and struggling death By the fierce and withering breath By the heavy dawn which brings Nought lovely to the sight, By all that from my weary soul thou hast wrung of grief and fear, Come to me from the ocean's dead-awake, arise, appear!" Was it her yearning spirit's dream, Or did a pale form rise, And o'er the hush'd wave glide and gleam, "Have the depths heard ?-they have! My voice prevails-thou'rt there, Dim from thy watery grave, Oh! thou that wert so fair! Yet take me to thy rest! There dwells no fear with love; Let me slumber on thy breast, While the billow rolls above! |