 | Dryburgh Abbey and other poems |  |
46
THE FISHERMAN'S CHILDREN.
I
Slowly the melancholy day,In cloud and storm passed o'er;
Fearful and wild the tall ships lay,
Off the rude Northumbrian shore;
'Mid the thunder's crash—and the lightning's ray,
And the dashing ocean's roar!
II
And many a father's heart beat high,With an aching fear of wo:
As he gazed upon the ghastly sky,
And heard the tempest blow!
Or watched with sad and anxious eye,
The warring waves below!
III
Oh! many a mournful mother wept;And closer, fonder prest
The babe that soft and sweetly slept
Upon her troubled breast;
While every hour that lingering crept,
Her agonies confest!
47
IV
And one upon her couch was laid,In deep and helpless pain;
Two children sought her side, and played,
And strove to cheer—in vain:
Till breathlessly, and half afraid,
They listened to the rain!
V
“'Tis a rough sea your father braves!”The afflicted mother said;
“Pray that the Holy arm that saves,
May guard his precious head!
May shield him from the wrecking waves,
To aid ye, when I'm dead!”
VI
Then low the children bended there,With clasped hands, to implore
That God would save them from despair,
And their loved sire restore:
And the heavens heard that quiet prayer,
'Mid all the tempest's roar!
VII
'Twas eve!—and cloudlessly at last,The sky in beauty gleamed!
O'er snowy sail and lofty mast
The painted pennon streamed;
The danger and the gloom had passed,
Like horrors—only dreamed!
48
VIII
Swift to the desolated beachThe Fisher's children hied;
But far as human sight could reach,
No boat swept o'er the tide!
Still on they watched—and with sweet speech,
To banish grief they tried!
IX
Long, long they sat—when, lo! a lightAnd distant speck was seen,—
Small as the smallest star of night,
When night is most serene!—
But to the Fisher's boy that sight
A sight of bliss had been!
X
“It comes!” he cried, “our father's boat!See!—sister—by yon stone!
Not there—not there—still more remote—
I know the sail's our own!
Look!—look again!—they nearer float!
Thanks!—thanks to God alone!”
XI
Four happy, grateful hearts were those,That met at even-fall;
The mother half forgot her woes,
And kissed and blessed them all!
“Praised! praised,” she said, “be He who shows
Sweet mercy when we call!”
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