Page:What cheer, or, Roger Williams in banishment (1896).pdf/237

And then might he his isle regain,
  Fraught with a dazzling freight,
And lead his kindred o'er the main
  To that celestial state.

But, whilst he plied the bended oar,
  The island left his view;
And yet afar his bark before,
  The azure circle flew.

Yet flattering hope did still sustain
  And give him vigor new;
But still before him o'er the main
  Retired the circle blue.

Though whirlpools yawned; and tempests frowned
  And beat upon his head,
And billows burst his bark around,
  Hope on that phantom fed;

Nor yet had ceased his labors vain,
  Had not his vigor failed,
And 'neath the fever of his brain,
  His vital spirit quailed.

Then Death appeared upon the sea,
  An angel fair and bright;
For he is not what mortals say—
  A grim and haggard sprite.

And, "Thou dost chase," he said, "my child!
  A phantom o'er the main;
But though it has thy toils beguiled,
  Thou hast not toiled in vain.