THE PLUNDERER'S GRAVE. SNOW hides the green mountain, Beneath its white billow; And chill'd is the fountain, And leafless the willow: The tempest, loud swelling, Now drives along, dreary; Before the storm, yelling, The sea-mew flies, weary, And, cow'ring, seeks shelter, from ocean's wild roar. While billows are bounding, O'er rude rocks, surrounding The long sandy beach, and the craggy lee-shore. Where now does the bark ride, The wild water braving? Where now, o'er the dark tide, The gay streamer, waving? And where now, so fearless, The mariner, helming, Mid clouds, dark and cheerless, And ocean o'erwhelming? Where now is the heart of that mariner brave? That bark is dismasted! That mariner blasted! That streamer has drunken the wild water-wave? O'er breakers, loud crashing, The waves fiercely bound her; While, rude billows, dashing, In riot, roll, round her. Go, helmsman, mid ocean, Thine arm now must save thee! Oh! kiss, with devotion, The pledge, that she gave thee. Who ne'er may behold thee, her sailor, again! Think of her, who is dearest, When danger is nearest, Then plunge thy bold form, in the rough, rolling main! Now tall waves dash, o'er him, Ah! vainly contending; Hope sinks fast, before him ; His struggles are ending. Now, waves, gently growing, Seem rising, to save him; Now, o'er the beach, flowing, More softly they lave him : His motionless corse, on the lone shore, they lay. Rude waves, loudly roaring, Along the strand, pouring, Now bear him again, o'er the watery way! Again rise the surges ; Again the wave urges Now braves, mid the ocean? How wild looks the stranger! How frantick his motion ! He rescues the corse, from the rough rolling wave! The strand, for its pillow, From out the salt billow, He rescues the corse....but it is not to save! There stands, dark and lonely, The plunderer's dwelling; He seeks the strand, only When sea-mews are yelling. When, mid the storm howling, No star is seen, beaming, |