Page:The West Indies, and Other Poems.djvu/159
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147
Their native soil no more they trod;
They rest beneath no hallow'd sod;
Throughout the living world,
This sole memorial of their lot
Remains,—they were, and they are not.
They rest beneath no hallow'd sod;
Throughout the living world,
This sole memorial of their lot
Remains,—they were, and they are not.
The Spirit of the Cape[1] pursued
Their long and toilsome way;
At length, in ocean solitude,
He sprang upon his prey;
'Havoc!' the shipwreck-demon cried,
Loosed all his tempests on the tide,
Gave all his lightnings play:
The abyss recoil'd before the blast,
Firm stood the seaman till the last.
Their long and toilsome way;
At length, in ocean solitude,
He sprang upon his prey;
'Havoc!' the shipwreck-demon cried,
Loosed all his tempests on the tide,
Gave all his lightnings play:
The abyss recoil'd before the blast,
Firm stood the seaman till the last.