THE COMPLAINT OF NINATHOMA

by: Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

ow long will ye round me be swelling,

O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea?

Not always in caves was my dwelling,

Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree.

Through the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma

In the steps of my beauty I strayed;

The warriors beheld Ninathóma,

And they blessed the white-bosomed Maid!

A Ghost! by my cavern it darted!

In moon-beams the Spirit was drest--

For lovely appear the departed

When they visit the dreams of my rest!

But disturbed by the tempest's commotion

Fleet the shadowy forms of delight--

Ah cease, thou shrill blast of the Ocean!

To howl through my cavern by night.

• Purchase books by Samuel Taylor Coleridge