Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/125

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She groan'd and groan'd, but her groans grew Fainter at morning tide,Fainter and fainter still they came Till at the noon she died.
They flung her overboard;—poor wretch She rested from her pain,—But when—O Christ! O blessed God! Shall I have rest again!
I saw the sea close over her, Yet she was still in sight;I see her twisting every where; I see her day and night.
Go where I will, do what I can The wicked one I see—Dear Christ have mercy on my soul, O God deliver me!
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