LIFE: A SKETCH. 193 



Would howl along 1 the yeasty deep, and fling 

 The spray into the air, and then subside 

 Into a low and sullen muttering 1 . 



There was a humble cottage on the cliff, 

 And that had been his home the very crag 

 'Neath which he lay, wrapp'd in a tatter'd flag, 

 Had been a sea-mark to his little skiff 

 Across the perilous sea. 



But one hour past, and thro' the shadows dark 

 His heart had hail'd its tall and jagged side ; 

 There was a resting-place for his frail bark 

 From the rude buffets of the stormy tide, 

 And there, too, would his boy and his young bride 

 Receive the wanderer to his home, and weep 

 For joy. Then came the loud and pitiless blast, 

 And the boat heel'd, and the big wave did sweep 

 Fierce o'er her crazy sides. It could not last, 

 But in the greedy bosom of the deep, 

 Hope, joy, life all was whelm'd -' * 



Upon a rock 



His son above his father's body leant; 

 His eye was tearless, for the mighty shock 

 Of sudden woe, that desolates the heart 

 And numbs the soul, wants tears. But once he woke 

 From his cold torpor, on his father bent 

 His eye, and his breast heaved, and a deep sigh 

 Told the rack'd bosom's speechless agony. 

 But there were tears on many an iron cheek, 

 The tributary sympathy of rude 

 Yet kindly hearts ; and in low sounds they spake, - 

 As fearful that a louder voice might break 

 The stripling mourner's sacred solitude. 



***** 



He heard the trampling of a steed it bore 

 One who made certainty more certain one 

 (So wills the law) to search out death. 



***** 

 M. M. No. 104. 2 C 



