Bellambi’s Maid
Amongst the thunder-splintered cavesOn Ocean’s long and windy shore,I catch the voice of dying wavesBelow the ridges old and hoar;The spray descends in silver showers,And lovely whispers come and go,Like echoes from the happy hoursI never more may hope to know!The low mimosa droops with locksOf yellow hair, in dewy glade,While far above the caverned rocksI hear the dark Bellambi’s Maid!
The moonlight dreams upon the sailThat 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 glowThat streams from yonder airy hallAnd robes the sleeping hills below;The wandering meteors of the skyBeneath 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 graveYet springing green and fresh to view?And does the gleam on Ocean’s waveTide gladness now to me and you?Oh! cold and cheerless falls the nightOn withered hearts and hopes decayed:And I have seen but little lightSince died the dark Bellambi’s Maid!