XIII. ] THE BLACK DEATH. 245 



Stately as in life he bore him, 



Seated — motionless and grand ; 

 On the blotted page before him 



Lingers still the livid hand ! 



XI. 



What sad entry was he making, 



When the death-stroke fell at last ? 

 "Is it then God's will, in taking 



All, that I am left the last ? 

 I have closed the cabin doorway, 



That I may not see them die : — 

 Would our bones might rest in Norway, — 



'Neath our own cool Northern sky ! " 



xir. 



Then the ghastly log-book told them 



How- 5 — in some accursed clime, 

 Where the breathless land-swell rolled them, 



For an endless age of time — 

 Sudden broke the plague among them, 



'Neath that sullen Tropic sun ; 

 As if fiery scorpions stung them — 



Died they raving, one by one ! 



XIII. 



— Told the vain and painful striving, 



By shot-weighted shrouds to hide 

 (Last fond care), from those surviving, 



What good comrade last had died ; 

 Vet the ghastly things kept showing, 



Waist deep in the unquiet grave — 

 To each other gravely bowing 



On the slow swing of the wave ! 



XIV. 



Eric's boat is near the landing— 



From that dark ship bring they aught ? 

 In the stern sheets one is standing, 



Though their eyes perceive him not ; 

 But a curdling horror creepeth 



Thro' their veins, with icy darts, 

 And each hurried oar-stroke keepeth 



Time with their o'er-labouring hearts ! 



