The Desolation of Eyam The Emigrant, a Tale of the American Woods: and other poems. By William and Mary Howitt |
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THE TWO VOYAGERS. |
 | The Desolation of Eyam |  |
291
THE TWO VOYAGERS.
“Upon this coast was found a low cave in which were two graves.
On the rock above them was rudely cut—“Here lieth the body of
Captain Roger Lynden, of the Dolphin, May 1740;” and underneath
it, “Here also was laid the body of his son Charles who died on this
coast, October 1763.”
“My boat is on the shore, mother,
My ship waits but for me,
And all I lack of freightage now
Is a farewell word from thee.”
“Oh! stay at home, my only son,”
The mother wildly cried,
“For, on the very shore thou seekest,
In youth thy father died.
My ship waits but for me,
And all I lack of freightage now
Is a farewell word from thee.”
“Oh! stay at home, my only son,”
The mother wildly cried,
“For, on the very shore thou seekest,
In youth thy father died.
292
“His ship, like thine, was a gallant ship—
Like thine his trusty crew,
And all a perilous voyage might need
He had ready hands to do.
His helmsman loved him as his son,
A grey-haired man was he,—
Thy father was his foster-child,
And nursed upon his knee.
Like thine his trusty crew,
And all a perilous voyage might need
He had ready hands to do.
His helmsman loved him as his son,
A grey-haired man was he,—
Thy father was his foster-child,
And nursed upon his knee.
“I well remember how the ship
Lay yonder in the bay;
And what a sinful pride was mine
As I saw the streamers play;
There was music on the festive deck,
The wine like water poured;
And they drank success to the noble ship,
And to every man on board.
Lay yonder in the bay;
And what a sinful pride was mine
As I saw the streamers play;
There was music on the festive deck,
The wine like water poured;
And they drank success to the noble ship,
And to every man on board.
293
“A stirring gale swept through the shrouds,
Like the restless aspen's quiver,
And the gazers gave a rending shout,
As she went down the river.
Storm came at length—but wave, nor wind
Could yet her course impede;
She braved a fiercely surging sea,
As a strong man braves his steed.
Like the restless aspen's quiver,
And the gazers gave a rending shout,
As she went down the river.
Storm came at length—but wave, nor wind
Could yet her course impede;
She braved a fiercely surging sea,
As a strong man braves his steed.
“But, as they nearer came to land,
More dread the tempest's sway;
And soon, upon that savage coast,
A wreck the vessel lay.
There were sixty men, all stout of limb,
Lay lifeless on that shore:
Alas! for every lifeless one,
How many hearts grew sore!—
More dread the tempest's sway;
And soon, upon that savage coast,
A wreck the vessel lay.
There were sixty men, all stout of limb,
Lay lifeless on that shore:
Alas! for every lifeless one,
How many hearts grew sore!—
294
“But one of all survived—but one!—
And he the grey-haired man,
Whom years before, you would have said,
Through life had well nigh ran;
He saw his comrades fall a prey
To the ravening savage grim;
And lean and gaunt wild-beasts come down,
And rend them limb from limb.
And he the grey-haired man,
Whom years before, you would have said,
Through life had well nigh ran;
He saw his comrades fall a prey
To the ravening savage grim;
And lean and gaunt wild-beasts come down,
And rend them limb from limb.
“He scared each rabid thing away,
Thy father's corse to save;
And dug, a solitary man,
With patient love, his grave.
In a hidden cave he buried him,
And graved above his head
His name, and whence his vessel came,—
Then down the coast he fled.
Thy father's corse to save;
And dug, a solitary man,
With patient love, his grave.
In a hidden cave he buried him,
And graved above his head
His name, and whence his vessel came,—
Then down the coast he fled.
295
“But home at length the old man came
To tell the fearful tale,
And died within his children's arms,
In his green native vale.
Then stay at home, my only son,
For the wailing of the surge,
And the low voice of the gathering winds
Are moaning like thy dirge.”
To tell the fearful tale,
And died within his children's arms,
In his green native vale.
Then stay at home, my only son,
For the wailing of the surge,
And the low voice of the gathering winds
Are moaning like thy dirge.”
Again a ship went down the frith,
Again the people cheered;
And the mother watched, with tearful eyes,
Till the top-mast disappeared.
On went the ship, on went the ship,
Nor storm did overtake,—
She went, as sails a stately swan
Upon its placid lake.
Again the people cheered;
And the mother watched, with tearful eyes,
Till the top-mast disappeared.
On went the ship, on went the ship,
Nor storm did overtake,—
She went, as sails a stately swan
Upon its placid lake.
296
Through wave and wind, o'er surf and swell,
With steady keel she bore;
And the seamen shouted joyfully
When they reached the palm-wood shore.
When they saw the gorgeous sky above,
And felt the land-breeze blow,
And saw the painted savage flit
In his light bark to and fro.
With steady keel she bore;
And the seamen shouted joyfully
When they reached the palm-wood shore.
When they saw the gorgeous sky above,
And felt the land-breeze blow,
And saw the painted savage flit
In his light bark to and fro.
With furled sail and anchor cast,
That vessel lay to land;
And many a day the young and gay
Went forth upon the strand.
They roamed 'mid wilds of myriad flowers,
Through woods of giant trees,
To snare the rainbow-plumaged bird,
The savage beast to seize.
That vessel lay to land;
And many a day the young and gay
Went forth upon the strand.
They roamed 'mid wilds of myriad flowers,
Through woods of giant trees,
To snare the rainbow-plumaged bird,
The savage beast to seize.
297
They stood round him who led them on,
A gallant, faithful train,
But the fervour of the torrid sun
Smote fiercely on his brain;
Misery, like madness, seized on him,
Remorse and feverish dread,
And the memory of his mother's prayer,
Like a curse upon his head.
A gallant, faithful train,
But the fervour of the torrid sun
Smote fiercely on his brain;
Misery, like madness, seized on him,
Remorse and feverish dread,
And the memory of his mother's prayer,
Like a curse upon his head.
The seamen knelt around him there,
And marked his swift decay;
For he, who saw the uprising sun,
Marked not his parting ray.
The moon came up the cloudless sky,
But, ere she reached the west,
They had borne him to a hidden cave,
And laid him down to rest.
And marked his swift decay;
For he, who saw the uprising sun,
Marked not his parting ray.
The moon came up the cloudless sky,
But, ere she reached the west,
They had borne him to a hidden cave,
And laid him down to rest.
298
Even there another had been laid
To take his dreamless sleep;
But when they read the graved name,
No man forbore to weep;
For it was beside his father's grave
They laid the fated son;—
“Oh, God!” they said, “how wondrously
Thine awful will is done!”
To take his dreamless sleep;
But when they read the graved name,
No man forbore to weep;
For it was beside his father's grave
They laid the fated son;—
“Oh, God!” they said, “how wondrously
Thine awful will is done!”
| The Desolation of Eyam | |