THE DISOBEDIENT SON.
"Tempt not the sea,"—my father said,
His locks were white with age,
And low he bowed his reverend head
Upon the Bible's page.
"Tempt not the sea, my William dear,"
I heard my mother sigh,
Saw on her furrowed cheek the tear,
But rendered no reply.
That night,—it was the last, last time!
From my sweet home I fled,
The sabbath-bell with evening chime
Reproached my rebel tread.
One eye there was I shunned to meet,
I could not bid farewell,
And yet its tender glance was sweet,
How sweet, I dared not tell.
For ah! the sea, the sea had bound
My heart in wizard chain,
My boyhood knew no tuneful sound
Like the storm-stricken main.
And when bright fancies o'er my soul
In dreams their sway would urge,
How proud the sapphire waves would roll
Their white and crested surge.
