 | Dunluce Castle, A Poem |  |
61
VI.
The carnage ceas'd—-but where are those,Whose hearts were late in joyance heaving?
Who, on that Eve, had wooed repose,
The Morrow's pleasure preconceiving?
They thought, alas! to rise at morn,
And watch the bubbling ocean spray;
Nor deem'd that o'er their heads forlorn
That sparkling froth should play:
Yet thus it was; for every corse,
Such was McDonnel's straight command,
Was hurl'd amid the waters hoarse,
And frighten'd far the blushing strand.
Their heart's blood was their only shroud;
Their wail those waters rudely loud;
And not a creature crost his breast,
To wish their parted spirits rest:
62
In the green bosom of the deep;
Alas! it is a troubled grave,
To take their long and lonely sleep.
| Dunluce Castle, A Poem | |