by Luis Vaz de Camoes
All hushed the heaven and earth, and wind the same,
The waves all spreading o'er the sandy plain,
While sleep doth in the sea the fish enchain,
Nocturnal silence brooding as a dream;--
Prostrate with love, Ionio, fisher, came
Where the breeze moved the waters of the main;
Weeping, the well-loved name he called in vain,
That can no more be called but as a name;
Oh! waves, or ere love slay me, thus he cried,
Restore to me my nymph who, ah! so soon,
Ye taught my soul was subject to the grave.
No one replies; from far beats ocean's tide;
All softly moves the grove; and the wind's moan
Bears off the voice that to the wind he gave.
Last updated June 21, 2015