Page:Poems Davidson.djvu/66

He wails alone—"and scarce forbears to weep,"
That his wrecked bark still lingers on the deep!

E'en to the child of penury and woe,
 Who knows no friend that o'er his grave will weep,^[1]
Whose tears in childhood's hour were taught to flow,
 Looks with dismay across death's horrid deep!
Then, when suspended o'er that awful brink,
 Snatched from each joy, which opening life may give,
Who would not from the prospect shuddering shrink,
 And murmur out one hope-fraught prayer to live!
But, see! the captive now is dragged along,
While round him mingle yell and wild-war song!
The ring is formed around the high raised pile,
Fagots o'er fagots reared with savage toil;
The impatient warriors watch with burning brands,
To toss the death-signs from their ruthless hands!
Nearer, and nearer still the wretch is drawn,
All hope of life, of rescue, now is gone!
A horrid death is placed before his eyes;
In fancy now he sees the flames arise,
He hears the deafening yell which drowns the cry
Of the poor victim's last, dire agony!
His heart was sick, he strove in vain to pray
 To that great God, before whose awful bar
His lightened soul was soon to wing its way
 From this sad world to other realms afar!

He raised his eyes to heaven's blue arch above,
That pure retreat of mercy and of love;
When, lo! two fellow-sufferers caught his eye.

1. Campbell