The poetical works of Susanna Blamire "The Muse of Cumberland." Now for the first time collected by Henry Lonsdale; With a preface, memoir, and notes by Patrick Maxwell |
THE LOSS OF THE ROEBUCK. |
The poetical works of Susanna Blamire "The Muse of Cumberland." | ||
THE LOSS OF THE ROEBUCK.
How oft by the lamp of the pale waning moon
Would Kitty steal out from the eye of the town;
On the beach as she stood, when the wild waves would roll,
Her eye shed a torrent just fresh from the soul;
And, as o'er the ocean the billows would stray,
Her sighs follow after, as moaning as they.
Would Kitty steal out from the eye of the town;
On the beach as she stood, when the wild waves would roll,
Her eye shed a torrent just fresh from the soul;
And, as o'er the ocean the billows would stray,
Her sighs follow after, as moaning as they.
I saw, as the ship to the harbour drew near,
Hope redden her cheek—then it blanch'd with chill fear;
She wish'd to inquire of the whispering crew
If they'd spoke with the Roebuck, or aught of her knew;
For long in conjecture her fate had been toss'd,
Nor knew we for certain the Roebuck was lost.
Hope redden her cheek—then it blanch'd with chill fear;
She wish'd to inquire of the whispering crew
If they'd spoke with the Roebuck, or aught of her knew;
For long in conjecture her fate had been toss'd,
Nor knew we for certain the Roebuck was lost.
I pitied her feelings, and saw what she'd ask,
For Innocence ever looks through a thin mask;
I stepp'd up to Jack Oakum—his sad head he shook,
And cast on sweet Kitty a side-glancing look:
“The Roebuck has founder'd—the crew are no more,—
Nor again shall Jack Bowling be welcom'd on shore!”
For Innocence ever looks through a thin mask;
I stepp'd up to Jack Oakum—his sad head he shook,
And cast on sweet Kitty a side-glancing look:
“The Roebuck has founder'd—the crew are no more,—
Nor again shall Jack Bowling be welcom'd on shore!”
250
Sweet Kitty, suspecting, laid hold of my arm:
“O tell me,” she cried, “for my soul's in alarm;
Is she lost?”—I said nothing; whilst Jack gave a sigh,
Then down dropp'd the curtain that hung o'er her eye;
Fleeting life for a moment seem'd willing to stay;
Just flutter'd, and then fled for ever away.
“O tell me,” she cried, “for my soul's in alarm;
Is she lost?”—I said nothing; whilst Jack gave a sigh,
Then down dropp'd the curtain that hung o'er her eye;
Fleeting life for a moment seem'd willing to stay;
Just flutter'd, and then fled for ever away.
So droops the pale lily surcharg'd with a shower,—
Sunk down as with sorrow so dies the sweet flower;
No sunbeam returning, no spring ever gay,
Can give back the soft breath once wafted away;
The eye-star once set never rises again,
Nor pilots one vessel more over the main.
Sunk down as with sorrow so dies the sweet flower;
No sunbeam returning, no spring ever gay,
Can give back the soft breath once wafted away;
The eye-star once set never rises again,
Nor pilots one vessel more over the main.
The poetical works of Susanna Blamire "The Muse of Cumberland." | ||