 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE PIRATE.
Elzimina! maid of ocean,
With the bosom of soft light,
Seest thou, settling down between us,
Stormy, never-ending night?
Through thy curtains of pale splendor,
As the rosy lamp-light falls,
Comes there not a memory, tender,
Of my dungeon's stony walls?
With the bosom of soft light,
Seest thou, settling down between us,
Stormy, never-ending night?
Through thy curtains of pale splendor,
As the rosy lamp-light falls,
Comes there not a memory, tender,
Of my dungeon's stony walls?
30
Elzimina! maid of ocean,
I can see thee, pale and meek,
Wiping with thy amber tresses
The salt waters from thy cheek—
Struggling like a beam of brightness
Towards my closing prison-door,
With thy arms of tender whiteness
Stretched to clasp me once, once more!
I can see thee, pale and meek,
Wiping with thy amber tresses
The salt waters from thy cheek—
Struggling like a beam of brightness
Towards my closing prison-door,
With thy arms of tender whiteness
Stretched to clasp me once, once more!
Elzimina! maid of ocean,
But the love of heaven's sweet shore
Or the dread of hell could tempt me
That dark parting to live o'er.
Will there not some mystic token
Fill thy heart with bitter pain
When the sod lies cold and broken
Where thy head so oft hath lain?
But the love of heaven's sweet shore
Or the dread of hell could tempt me
That dark parting to live o'er.
Will there not some mystic token
Fill thy heart with bitter pain
When the sod lies cold and broken
Where thy head so oft hath lain?
Elzimina! maid of ocean,
Rising from the hills I see,
Thin and white, the mists of morning,
That shall never set for me!
Wrecks of vessels lost and stranded
Filled thy soft heart with alarm,
And the gray wings, beating landward,
Warned the sailor of the storm.
Rising from the hills I see,
Thin and white, the mists of morning,
That shall never set for me!
Wrecks of vessels lost and stranded
Filled thy soft heart with alarm,
And the gray wings, beating landward,
Warned the sailor of the storm.
When, O lovely maid of ocean,
From the rocking deck with me,
Saw ye last the fiery sunset
Paint the arteries of the sea?
When the red moon's reddest shadow
Like a mantle clasped thy form,
And the green waves like a meadow
Rose and fell before the storm.
From the rocking deck with me,
Saw ye last the fiery sunset
Paint the arteries of the sea?
When the red moon's reddest shadow
Like a mantle clasped thy form,
And the green waves like a meadow
Rose and fell before the storm.
Elzimina! dream of beauty,
'Neath the lips that dare not speak,
Like the moonlight's falling crimson
Burned thy lily brow and cheek.
Destiny than will is stronger,
And thy gentle eyes must weep,
When my red flag lights no longer
The blue bosom of the deep!
'Neath the lips that dare not speak,
Like the moonlight's falling crimson
Burned thy lily brow and cheek.
Destiny than will is stronger,
And thy gentle eyes must weep,
When my red flag lights no longer
The blue bosom of the deep!
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Elzimina! maid of ocean,
Farewell now to thee and hope,
E'en thy white hands cannot save me
From the coiling gallows rope.
From the scaffold, newly risen,
Creeps a shadow, dull and slow,
O'er the damp wall of my prison—
God have mercy on thy woe!
Farewell now to thee and hope,
E'en thy white hands cannot save me
From the coiling gallows rope.
From the scaffold, newly risen,
Creeps a shadow, dull and slow,
O'er the damp wall of my prison—
God have mercy on thy woe!
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |