 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
THE JERSEY PRISON SHIP
They died—the young—the loved, the brave,
The death barge came for them,
And where the seas yon crag rocks lave
Their nightly requiem,
They buried them all, and threw the sand
Unhallowedly o'er that patriot band.
The death barge came for them,
And where the seas yon crag rocks lave
Their nightly requiem,
They buried them all, and threw the sand
Unhallowedly o'er that patriot band.
The black ship like a demon sate
Upon the prowling deep;
From her came fearful sounds of hate,
'Till pain stilled all in sleep—
It was the sleep that victims take,
Tied, tortured, dying, at the stake.
Upon the prowling deep;
From her came fearful sounds of hate,
'Till pain stilled all in sleep—
It was the sleep that victims take,
Tied, tortured, dying, at the stake.
Yet some the deep has now updug,
Their bones are in the sun;
And whether by sword or deadly drug,
They died—yes—one by one.
Was it not strange to mortal eye,
To see them all so strangely die?
Their bones are in the sun;
And whether by sword or deadly drug,
They died—yes—one by one.
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To see them all so strangely die?
No death upon the field was theirs,
No war-peal o'er their graves.
They who were born as Freedom's heirs,
Were stabbed like traitor slaves.
Their patriot hearts were doomed to feel
Dishonor—with the victor's steel.
No war-peal o'er their graves.
They who were born as Freedom's heirs,
Were stabbed like traitor slaves.
Their patriot hearts were doomed to feel
Dishonor—with the victor's steel.
[OMITTED]
There comes upon the stilly eve,
Wild songs from that wild shore;
And then the surges more wildly heave
Their hoarse and growling roar.
When dead men sing unearthly glees,
And shout in laughing revelries.
Wild songs from that wild shore;
And then the surges more wildly heave
Their hoarse and growling roar.
When dead men sing unearthly glees,
And shout in laughing revelries.
The corpse-light shines, like some pale star,
From out the dead men's cliff;
And the sea nymphs sail in their coral car,
With those that are cold and stiff.
And they sail near the spot of treachery, where
The tide has left that dark ship bare.
From out the dead men's cliff;
And the sea nymphs sail in their coral car,
With those that are cold and stiff.
And they sail near the spot of treachery, where
The tide has left that dark ship bare.
Are they those ancient ones, who died
For freedom and for me?
They are—they point in martyred pride,
To that spot upon the sea,
From whence came once the dying yell
From out that wreck—that prisoned hell.
For freedom and for me?
They are—they point in martyred pride,
To that spot upon the sea,
From whence came once the dying yell
From out that wreck—that prisoned hell.
Hark! hear their chant—it starts the hair,
It makes the blood turn cold;
'Twould make the tiger forsake his lair,
The miser leave his gold,
And see yon harper! he doth try
A dead man's note of melody.
It makes the blood turn cold;
'Twould make the tiger forsake his lair,
The miser leave his gold,
And see yon harper! he doth try
A dead man's note of melody.
Chant
Soundly sleep we in the day,And yet we trip it nightly,
We sail with the nymphs around each bay,
When the moon peers out most brightly,
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For they, like us, are sleeping;
But they dare not come o'er our bonny waves,
For our nightly watch we're keeping.
Our spectres visit their foreign homes,
And pluck right merrily,
Their bones which whiten within their tombs,
And plant them here, aye, cheerily,—
For cheerily then we dance and sing,
With our spectre band around them,
And the curse and the laugh of scorn we fling,
As we tell where our shadows found them.
And then we go to the rotting wreck,
Where we drank the cup of poison,
We laugh and we quaff upon her deck,
Till morn comes up the horizon.
But skip ye, skip ye, beneath the cliff,
For the sun comes up like a fiery skiff,
Ploughing the waves of yon blue sky—
Hie—laughing spectres, to your homes, haste—hie.—
Boston Spectator, August 18, 1827
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |