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THE DEATH-BOAT OF HELIGOLAND.

CAN restlessness reach the cold sepulchred

head?

Ay, the quick have their sleep-walkers, so have the dead.

There are brains, though they moulder, that dream in the tomb,

And that maddening forehear the last trumpet of doom,

Till their corses start sheeted to revel on earth, Making horror more deep by the semblance of mirth:

By the glare of new-lighted volcanoes they dance, Or at mid-sea appall the chill'd mariner's glance. Such, I wot, was the band of cadaverous smile Seen ploughing the night-surge of Heligo's isle.

The foam of the Baltic had sparkled like fire, And the red moon look'd down with an aspect of ire;

But her beams on a sudden grew sick-like and

gray,

And the mews that had slept clang'd and shriek'd

far away

284

THE DEATH-BOAT OF HELIGOLAND.

And the buoys and the beacons extinguish'd their light,

As the boat of the stony-eyed dead came in sight, High bounding from billow to billow; each form Had its shroud like a plaid flying loose to the storm;

With an oar in each pulseless and icy-cold hand, Fast they plough'd by the lee-shore of Heligoland, Such breakers as boat of the living ne' er cross'd; Now surf-sunk for minutes again they uptoss'd; And with livid lips shouted reply o'er the flood To the challenging watchman that curdled his blood

'We are dead-we are bound from our graves in the west,

First to Hecla, and then to

the rest

Unmeet was

For man's ear. The old abbey bell thunder'd its

clang,

And their eyes gleam'd with phosphorus light as

it rang:

Ere they vanish'd, they stopp'd, and gazed silently

grim,

Till the eye could define them, garb, feature, and limb.

Now who were those roamers? of gallows or

wheel

Bore they marks, or the mangling anatomist's

steel?

No, by magistrates' chains 'mid their grave-clothes

you saw

They were felons too proud to have perish'd by

law:

But a ribbon that hung where a rope should have

been,

"Twas the badge of their faction, its hue was not

green,

Show'd them men who had trampled and tortured and driven

To rebellion the fairest Isle breathed on by

Heaven,―

Men whose heirs would yet finish the tyrannous

task,

If the Truth and the Time had not dragg'd off their mask.

They parted-but not till the sight might discern A scutcheon distinct at their pinnace's stern, Where letters emblazon'd in blood-colour'd flame, Named their faction-I blot not my page with its

name.

1828.

SONG.

WHEN LOVE came first to earth, the SPRING
Spread rose-beds to receive him,

And back he vow'd his flight he'd wing
To Heaven, if she should leave him.

But SPRING departing, saw his faith
Pledged to the next new comer—
He revell'd in the warmer breath

And richer bowers of SUMMER.

Then sportive AUTUMN claim'd by rights
An Archer for her lover,

And even in WINTER'S dark cold nights
A charm he could discover.

Her routs and balls, and fireside joy,
For this time were his reasons-
In short, Young Love's a gallant boy,
That likes all times and seasons.

1829.

SONG.

EARL MARCH look'd on his dying child, And smit with grief to view her— The youth, he cried, whom I exiled, Shall be restored to woo her.

She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover:

And he look'd up to Ellen's bower,
And she look'd on her lover-

But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling. And am I then forgot-forgot?

It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;

Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.

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