The Wreck of the Hesperus
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- It was the schooner Hesperus,
- That sailed the wintry sea;
- And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
- To bear him company.
- Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,
- Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
- And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
- That ope in the month of May.
- The skipper he stood beside the helm,
- His pipe was in his month,
- And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
- The smoke now West, now South.
- Then up and spake an old Sailor,
- Had sailed to the Spanish Main,
- "I pray thee, put into yonder port,
- For I fear a hurricane.
- "Last night, the moon had a golden ring,
- And to-night no moon we see!"
- The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
- And a scornful laugh laughed he.
- Colder and louder blew the wind,
- A gale from the Northeast.
- The snow fell hissing in the brine,
- And the billows frothed like yeast.
- Down came the storm, and smote amain
- The vessel in its strength;
- She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
- Then leaped her cable's length.
- "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
- And do not tremble so;
- For I can weather the roughest gale
- That ever wind did blow."
- He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat
- Against the stinging blast;
- He cut a rope from a broken spar,
- And bound her to the mast.
- "O father! I hear the church-bells ring,
- O say, what may it be?"
- "'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"--
- And he steered for the open sea.
- "O father! I hear the sound of guns,
- O say, what may it be?"
- "Some ship in distress, that cannot live
- In such an angry sea!"
- "O father! I see a gleaming light
- O say, what may it be?"
- But the father answered never a word,
- A frozen corpse was he.
- Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
- With his face turned to the skies,
- The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
- On his fixed and glassy eyes.
- Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
- That saved she might be;
- And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave,
- On the Lake of Galilee.
- And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
- Through the whistling sleet and snow,
- Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
- Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.
- And ever the fitful gusts between
- A sound came from the land;
- It was the sound of the trampling surf
- On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
- The breakers were right beneath her bows,
- She drifted a dreary wreck,
- And a whooping billow swept the crew
- Like icicles from her deck.
- She struck where the white and fleecy waves
- Looked soft as carded wool,
- But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
- Like the horns of an angry bull.
- Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
- With the masts went by the board;
- Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
- Ho! ho! the breakers roared!
- At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
- A fisherman stood aghast,
- To see the form of a maiden fair,
- Lashed close to a drifting mast.
- The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
- The salt tears in her eyes;
- And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
- On the billows fall and rise.
- Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
- In the midnight and the snow!
- Christ save us all from a death like this,
- On the reef of Norman's Woe!
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