Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/382

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SHIPWRECK OF THE ABEONA.
Now Mary smiles at danger,
Heeds not the tossing wave,
But views with hope yon country,
Where the treasures she will save

Shall take her home to Scotland,
There in comfort to abide,
And long to bless the hour, love
Had made her William's bride.

But see! 'tis smoke ascending,
Thick rolling from below!
And, oh! this burning heat too!
And hark! those shrieks of woe!

See! the crew on deck all rushing!
Great heaven! the flames pursue!
"O save me, save me, William!
Save thy Mary fond and true!"

Who shall paint the scene of horror?
Not a hope beyond the skies!
Like lightning to the mast-heads
The crackling flames arise!

They rise, and rage, and widen—
Hark the shriek of wild despair,
The cry of bitter anguish,
The agony of prayer!

The boats!—too soon they're crowded,
Every mother, frantic, wild,
Forgetting self in danger,
Thinks only of her child!

Now God have mercy on you,
O! hapless orphan crew!
See their little arms extended!
See, they weep their last adieu.

God have mercy on you, mothers!
For slow they raise the oar;
Slow, sad, they strike the billows—
Ye will see your babes no more!

The crackling, blazing timbers
Crashing fall from side to side,
All around—the flames devouring,
All below—the rushing tide.