The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
273
XII. THE BURNING SHIP
The transport ship pursues its lonely way
Across the purple moonlit Indian deep.
Above, the stars shine out with tender ray:
The waveless far-spread ocean seems asleep.
All, all was well,
When evening fell,
And well at sunrise all shall surely be.
There's nought to fear!
Steer, keen-eyed helmsman, steer,—
Steer the great ship across the silent sea!
Across the purple moonlit Indian deep.
Above, the stars shine out with tender ray:
The waveless far-spread ocean seems asleep.
All, all was well,
When evening fell,
And well at sunrise all shall surely be.
There's nought to fear!
Steer, keen-eyed helmsman, steer,—
Steer the great ship across the silent sea!
But ah! what piteous sudden cry rings out?
“Fire!”—“Fire!” again.—Oh, can this dread thing be?
Yes, once again the wild heart-rending shout
Troubles the bosom of the peaceful sea.
“Fire!”—Red flames rise
And stain the skies:
The fire spreads o'er the sails, and licks the mast.
The ship's consumed!
The passengers are doomed:
Each agonizing moment seems their last.
“Fire!”—“Fire!” again.—Oh, can this dread thing be?
Yes, once again the wild heart-rending shout
Troubles the bosom of the peaceful sea.
“Fire!”—Red flames rise
And stain the skies:
274
The ship's consumed!
The passengers are doomed:
Each agonizing moment seems their last.
But ah! the steady soldiers form in lines:
Athwart the fire the regiment's old flag floats.
The fire upon men's fearless faces shines:
The sailors pass the women to the boats.
The boats recede;
Wild eyes give heed—
Their death-watch on the deck the soldiers keep.
One strange last cheer,
Which England's heart shall hear—
And then the sun rose on a sail-less deep.
Athwart the fire the regiment's old flag floats.
The fire upon men's fearless faces shines:
The sailors pass the women to the boats.
The boats recede;
Wild eyes give heed—
Their death-watch on the deck the soldiers keep.
One strange last cheer,
Which England's heart shall hear—
And then the sun rose on a sail-less deep.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |