The Maniac - A Ballad

The Maniac - A Ballad

Close on the beach, where Ocean's waves

Roll wild and furious to the shore,

A pining maiden sits and raves,

Her sighs commixing with the roar.

'Twas once, ah! once her breast knew joy,

And tears scath'd not her blooming cheek;

But there are griefs the heart destroy,

And woes of which we little reek.

LOVE! - and ye who never felt

Its pain, its bliss, may scorn my tale:

Ye ne'er at Beauty's shrine have knelt,

And felt her power o'er all prevail.

LOVE fill'd her breast, and fann'd its fire;

Its object all the heart could ask,

In fancy paint, or could desire

To sweetly in its sunshine bask.

But far o'er Ocean's waste must rove

Her Edward, to the Eastern shore;

And wealth once gain'd, her love he'd prove,

And stray from his ador'd no more.

'Twas wo! for ere his native land

He pleas'd in extacy again;

The ship that bore him fast did strand,

And whelm's him in the surging main.

This broke her tender heart at once; -

She roams at morn and eve, tis said,

An emblem of pale Sorrow's self,

A melancholy maniac maid.

Arion

1:28, p. 112

1827.09.21