THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to Then up and spake an old sailor. the rock Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothok." "I Had sailed the Spanish main: pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. 483 And a murmur of happiness steals through But the white foam of waves shall thy windhis rest "O God! thou hast blest me-I ask for no more." ing-sheet be, And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge! Ah' whence is that flame which now bursts On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now 'larms on his ear? be laid Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; 'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be |