He winged his way 'twixt earth and sky, 

 The affrighted hound beheld the deep, 

 And starting back, he shunned the leap, 

 And by this fatal check he drew 

 Death on himself and master too. 

 But those wild waves of death and strife 

 Flowed deeply, wildly as before, 

 Though he was reft of light and life, 

 And sunk in death to rise no more. 

 And he was gone! his mother's smile 

 No more shall welcome his return. 

 Ah! little did she think the while, 

 Her fate through life would be to mourn! 

 And his stern sire; how will he brook 

 The tale that tells his child is low! 

 How will the haughty tyrant look, 

 And writhe beneath the hopeless blow! 

 While conscience, with his vengeance sure, 

 Shall grant no peace, and feel no cure. 

 Aye, weep! for thee, no pitying eye 

 Prev. P 33/107 next