Ho for the deep where the sea-bird sings! Ho for the bowers where his merry voice rings! Ho for the billows where the storm-king dwells! Ho for the winding of the merry-maids’ shells! Ho for the storm where the lightning’s flash! Ho for the fury of the merry waves’ dash! The spray and the roar and the thunder’s crash! Ho for the breeze that shall cling to the mast! Ho for the day when the storms shall be past! Then hail to the home that the outcast sighs for! Hail to the liberty the patriot dies for! Hail to the great who will ne’er cast scorn to us! Hail to the land where the free shall be born to us! But alas for the friends that we leave far away! And alas for the tears when there breaks another day! Alas for the wo that shall bow the hoary heads! And alas for the home where another step treads! Alas for the murmuring hill-side rills! And alas for the shadow on the ever-green hills! Alas for the weeping of the purple-crowned vine! And alas for the glory of the golden-rimmed wine! Farewell to the land where our forefather’s sleep! And we’ll hie to our rest on the wide-spread deep. Farewell to the vine, to the home, and the tears! And we’ll dream of the land where the good ship steers! As the last sound died away upon the water, the singer caught sight of me, and the fair girl beside me, and disappeared from the deck. The listeners, as they dispersed to their several meditations, took up the words of the song; each one whatever best suited his feelings at the time. It was strange to read the various echoes as they rebounded spontaneously from the hearts of the emigrants. When the air of the song was forgotten the words were not, and each sang or mumbled them to music of his own—sometimes wild and pretty, sometimes discordant enough. One would long for “The deep where the sea-bird sings,” and I knew he had not many regrets for what he left behind. Another, a drunken wretch, yelled “For the fury of the merry waves’ dash, The spray and the roar and the thunder’s crash.” An old man, as he stole away, uttered a plaintive moan “For the home that the outcast sighs for;”