Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/124

 Life's sum of bliss? say rather pain. For heart to find its mate, To love, and be beloved again, Even when the hand of Fate Motions farewell!—and one must be A wanderer on the faithless sea.

Ay, Land or Sea! for, mark me now, Next morrow o'er the foam, Sword girt to side, and helm on brow, I left a sorrowing home; Yet still I lived as very part Even of this sainted rock, Where first that loved one's tristful heart Its secret treasure broke In my love-thirsting ear alone, Here, here, on this huge altar-stone.

Hear'st thou the busy sounds that come From yonder glittering shore: The madness of the doubling drum, The naker's sullen roar—