54 IIENnY KIRKE WHITE S POEMS. 



I Sad figures on his forehead ! — Keenly bright 



Revenge's flambeau burns ! Now in his eyes 



Stand the hot tears, — iminantled in the night, 

 Lo ! he retires to mourn ! — I hear his cries, — 

 He faints — he falls — and lo ! — 'tis true, ye powers he 

 dies." 



XXV. 



Thus spake the chieftain, — and, as if he view'd 

 The scene he pictured, with his foot advanced. 

 And chest inflated, motionless he stood, 



While under his uplifted shield he glanced, 

 With straining eyeball fix'd, like one entranced, 

 On viewless air ; — thither the dark platoon 



Gazed wondering, nothing seen, save when there 

 danced 

 The northern flash, or fiend, late fled from noon, 

 Darken'd the disk of the descending moon. 



XXVI. 



Silence crept stilly through the ranks. — The breeze 

 Spake most distinctly. As the sailor stands, 



When all the midnight gasping from the seas 

 Break boding sobs, and to his sight expands 

 High on the shrouds the spirit that commands 



The ocean-farer s life ; so stiff — so sear 



Stood each dark power ; — while through their nu- 

 merous bands 



Beat not one heart ; and mingling hope and fear 

 Now told them all was lost, now bade revenge appear. 



One there was there, whose loud defying tongue 

 Nor hope nor fear had silenced, but the swell 



Of over-boiling malice. Utterance long 



His passion mock'd, and long he strove to tell 

 His labouring ire ; still syllable none fell 



From his pale quivering lip, but died away 

 For very fur^^ ; from each hollow cell 



Half sprang his eyes, that cast a flamy ray, 

 And *"* * * * * * 



