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He springs from luis hammock - he flies to the deck,
Amazement confronts him with images dire
The masts fly in splinters -- the shrouds are on fire!
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell
In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,
And the death-angel flaps his broad wings o’er the wave !
Oh! sailor-boy, wo to thy dream of delight !
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss Where now is the picture that fancy touch'd bright,
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss ?
Oh! sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay ; Unbless’d and unhonor'd, down deep in the main,
Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.
No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
surge ; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge.
On beds of green sea flower thy limbs shall be laid;
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and
Ah! family forlorn !What shall I do ? — whichever way I turn, Scenes of incessant horror strike my eye; Bare barren walls gloom formidably round, And not a ray of hope is left to cheer. Sorrowing and sick, the partner of my fate Lies on her bed of straw - beside her, sad, My children dear, cling to her breast and weep; Or, press’d by hunger, hunt each nook for food, And quite exhausted, climb these knees — in vain Ah! looks too eloquent !— too plainly mark’d; Ye ask for bread I have no breail to give And must Louisa then our tender babes Must they untimely sink into the grave ? Must all be victims to a fate so sore ? The world will nothing give but barren frowns : What then remains ? -- there stands the wretched hut I dare not enter - Heaven befriend them all! What then remains ? — The night steals on apace; The sick moon labors thro' the mixing clouds — Yes - that were well O dire necessity! It must be so Despair, do what thou wilt !
This forest gloom,
Ah me! I hear a horse upon the road -
Stop, traveller! Behold a being born like thee to live, And yet endow'd with fortitude to die, Were his alone the pang of poverty: But a dear wife, now starving far from hence, Seven hapless hungry children at her side, A frowning world, and an ungrateful friend Urge him to actions which his heart abhors : Assist us save us — pity my despair, O'erlook my fault, and view me as a man. A fellow mortal sues to thee for bread, Invites thy charity – invites thy heart : Perhaps thou art a husband, and a father : Think if thy babes, like mine, dejected lay And held their little hands to thee for food, What would'st thou have me do, wert thou like me, Driv’n to distress like mine. Oh! then — befriend, Make our sad case your own – I ask no more, Nor will I force what bounty cannot spare : Let me not take, assassin-like, the boon Which, humbly bending at thy feet, I beg, Ne'er till this night [Traveller gives him a purse.]
Heaven speed thee on thy way!
hand. Thou much desired ! thou often sought! in vain.
Sought but not found at length I hold thee fast :
Hark! what noise was that ?
What have I said ?
O Heaven! what have I done ?
Robber! well may I start
Shall then Louisa live on spoil ?
Yet strikes the thought severely on my heart,
THE ARAB’S FAREWELL TO HIS HORSE.
My beautiful ! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,
Farewell.! these free untired limbs full many a mile must roam,
Yes thou must go, the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky