And torrents filled to overflow,

Through pathless wilds, in showers and wind,

Where woe to him who lags behind!

Where children slipped in ooze, and lay

Half frozen, buried half in clay;

Young mothers, with their babes at breast,

In chilly stupor dropped to rest.

[Pg 22]

A sailor lad of years fourteen

Had chanced, as by the waters thrown,

On four that made sad cry and moan

For parents they had lost between

The wreck and shore, or haply missed.

Cheerly and kind their cheeks he kissed,

And folded each in other’s arm.

Upon a sloping mound of moss

He dragged a heavy sail across,

Close-pinned with bowlders, rough yet warm;

And packing it with mosses tight,

Kept steadfast watch the livelong night,

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