CHICOMICO.
19
His lip quivers with rage, his eye flashes fire,
And his bosom beats high with a tempest of ire,
Alas! 'tis Rathmond stands a prisoner now,
Awaiting death from Hillis-ha-ad-joe,
From Hillis-ha-ad-joe, the stern, the dread,
To whose vindicate, cruel, savage mind,
Loss after loss fast following from behind,
Had only added thirst insatiate for blood;
And now he swore by all his heart held dear,
That limb from limb his victims he would tear.
And his bosom beats high with a tempest of ire,
Alas! 'tis Rathmond stands a prisoner now,
Awaiting death from Hillis-ha-ad-joe,
From Hillis-ha-ad-joe, the stern, the dread,
To whose vindicate, cruel, savage mind,
Loss after loss fast following from behind,
Had only added thirst insatiate for blood;
And now he swore by all his heart held dear,
That limb from limb his victims he would tear.
But ah! young Rathmond's case what tongue can tell!
Upon his hapless fate what heart can dwell?
To die when manhood dawns in rosy light,
To be cut off in all the bloom of life,
Ta view the cup untasted snatched from sight,
Is sure a thought with horror doubly rife.
Alas, poor youth! how sad, how faint thy heart!
When memory paints the forms endeared by love,
From these so soon, so horribly to part;
O! it would almost savage bosoms move!
But unextinguished hope still lit his breast,
And aimless still, drew scenes of future rest!
Caught at each distant light which dimly gleamed,
Though sinking, 'mid the abyss o'er which it beamed,
Like the poor mariner, who, tossed around,
Strains his dim eye to ocean's farthest bound,
Paints, in each snowy wave, assistance near,
And as it rolls away, gives up to fear:
Dreads to look round, for death's on every side,
The lowering clouds above the ocean wide:
Upon his hapless fate what heart can dwell?
To die when manhood dawns in rosy light,
To be cut off in all the bloom of life,
Ta view the cup untasted snatched from sight,
Is sure a thought with horror doubly rife.
Alas, poor youth! how sad, how faint thy heart!
When memory paints the forms endeared by love,
From these so soon, so horribly to part;
O! it would almost savage bosoms move!
But unextinguished hope still lit his breast,
And aimless still, drew scenes of future rest!
Caught at each distant light which dimly gleamed,
Though sinking, 'mid the abyss o'er which it beamed,
Like the poor mariner, who, tossed around,
Strains his dim eye to ocean's farthest bound,
Paints, in each snowy wave, assistance near,
And as it rolls away, gives up to fear:
Dreads to look round, for death's on every side,
The lowering clouds above the ocean wide:
