The musket swung behind his shoulders, broad And somewhat stoop'd by his marine abode, These, with a bayonet, not so free from rust “What cheer, Ben Bunting?” cried (when in full view Our new acquaintance) Torquil; "Aught of new?" "Ey, cy," quoth Ben, “not new, but news enow; A strange sail in the offing."-"Sail! and how? What! could you make her out? It cannot be; I've seen no rag of canvass on the sea." "Belike," said Ben, "you might not from the bay, But from the bluff-head, where I watch'd to-day, I saw her in the doldrums; for the wind Was light and baffling."—"When the sun CANTO III. THE fight was o'er; the flashing through Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb, the gloom, Had ceased; and sulphury vapours upward driven Had left the earth, and but polluted heaven: The rattling roar which rung in every volley Had left the echoes to their melancholy; No more they shriek'd their horror, boom for boom; The strife was done, the vanquish'd had their doom; The mutineers were crush'd, dispersed, or ta'en, Or lived to deem the happiest were the slain. Few, few escaped, and these were hunted o'er The isle they loved beyond their native shore. No further home was theirs, it seem'd, on earth, Once renegades to that which gave them birth; Track'd like wild beasts, like them they sought the wild, As to a mother's bosom flies the child; But vainly wolves and lions seek their den, And still more vainly men escape from men. Beneath a rock whose jutting base protrudes Far over ocean in his fiercest moods, And falls back on the foaming crowd behind, Egad, she seem'd a wicked-looking craft." "Årm'd ?"— “I expect so; – sent on the look-Together, bleeding, thirsty, faint, and few; out; 'Tis time, belike, to put our helm about.” “About ?—Whate'er may have us now in chase, We'll make no running fight, for that were base; We will die at our quarters, like true men." "Ey, ey; for that, 'tis all the same to Ben." "Does Christian know this?"-"Ay; he has piped all hands To quarters. They are furbishing the stands And if it were not, mine is not the soul But still their weapons in their hand, and still With something of the pride of former will, Back on themselves, — their sins remain'd | His light brown locks, so graceful in their - alone. Proscribed even in their second country, they Dug, like a spreading pestilence, the grave Even Greece can boast but one Thermopyla Till now, when she has forged her broken chain Back to a sword, and dies and lives again! flow, Now rose like startled vipers o'er his brow. Still as a statue, with his lips comprest To stifle even the breath within his breast, Fast by the rock, all menacing but mute, He stood; and, save a slight beat of his foot, Which deepen'd now and then the sandy dint Beneath his heel, his form seem'd turn'd to flint. Some paces further Torquil lean'd his head Against a bank, and spoke not, but he bled,— Not mortally-his worst wound was within: His brow was pale, his blue eyes sunken in, And blood-drops sprinkled o'er his yellow hair Shew'd that his faintness came not from despair, At lengthJackSkyscrape,a mercurial man, Who fluttered over all things like a fan, More brave than firm, and more disposed to dare Exclaim'd "G-d damn!" Those syllables And die at once than wrestle with despair, intense, Nucleus of England's native eloquence, But merely added to the oath, his eyes; Thus rendering the imperfect phrase complete A peroration I need not repeat. But Christian, of an higher order, stood Like an extinct volcano in his mood; Silent, and sad, and savage,—with the trace Of passion reeking from his clouded face; Till lifting up again his sombre eye, It glanced on Torquil who lean'd faintly by. "And is it thus ?" he cried, "unhappy boy! And thee too, thee my madness must destroy." He said, and strode to where young Torquil stood, Yet dabbled with his lately flowing blood; Seized his hand wistfully, but did not press, And shrunk as fearful of his own caress; Enquired into his state and when he heard The wound was slighter than he deem'd or fear'd, A moment's brightness pass'd along his brow, As much as such a moment would allow. "Yes," he exclaim'd, "we are taken in the toil, But not a coward or a common spoil; Dearly they have bought us—dearly still may buy,And I must fall; but have you strength to fly? "Twould be some comfort still, could you survive: Our dwindled band is now too few to strive. Oh! for a sole canoe! though but a shell, To bear you hence to where a hope may dwell! And who the first that, springing on the strand, Leap'd like a Nereid from her shell to land, With dark but brilliant skin, and dewy eye Shining with love, and hope, and constancy? Neuha,—the fond, the faithful, the adored, Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent pour'd; And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasp'd, As if to be assured 'twas him she grasp'd; Shudder'd to see his yet warm wound, and then, To find it trivial, smiled and wept again. She was a warrior's daughter, and could bear Such sights, and feel, and mourn, but not despair. Her lover lived,-nor foes nor fears could blight That full-blown moment in its all delight: And Paradise was breathing in the sigh They flew, and fast their fierce pursuers By her command removed, to strengthen Not distant from the isle of Toobonai, A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray, The haunt of birds, a desart to mankind, The feather'd fishers of the solitude. shell, This he would have opposed: but with a smile She pointed calmly to the craggy isle, And bade him "speed and prosper." She would take The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake. They pull'd; her arm, though delicate, was free And firm as ever grappled with the sea, And yielded scarce to Torquil's manlier strength. The prow now almost lay within its length Of the crag's steep, inexorable face, With nought but soundless waters for its base; Within an hundred boats' length was the foe, Is this a place of safety, or a grave, wave?" They rested on their paddles, and uprose Neuha,and, pointing to the approaching foes, Cried, "Torquil, follow me, and fearless follow!" Then plunged at once into the ocean's hollow. There was no time to pause—the foes were near Chains in his eye and menace in his ear; With vigour they pull'd on,and as they came, Hail'd him to yield, and by his forfeit name. Headlong he leap'd—to him the swimmer's skill Was native, and now all his hope from ill; But how or where? He dived, and rose no more; The boat's crew look'd amazed ́o'er sca and shore. There was no landing on that precipice, Steep, harsh, and slippery as a berg of ice. They watch'd awhile to see him float again, But not a trace rebubbled from the main: The wave roll'd on, no ripple on its face, Since their first plunge, recall'd a single trace; The little whirl which eddied, and slight White as a sepulchre above the pair, Was all that told of Torquil and his bride ; | And clapp'd her hands with joy at his Even superstition now forbade their stay. spray. bious steel. Closely, and scarcely less expert to trace The depths where divers hold the pearl in chase, Torquil, the nursling of the northern seas, Pursued her liquid steps with art and case. Deep - deeper for an instant Neuha led The way then upward soar'd—and, as she spread Her arms, and flung the foam from off her locks, Laugh'd, and the sound was answer'd by the rocks. They had gain❜d a central realm of earth again, But look'd for tree, and field,and sky, in vain. Around she pointed to a spacious cave, Whose only portal was the keyless wave; (A hollow archway by the sun unseen, Save through the billows' glassy veil of green, In some transparent ocean-holiday, surprise; Led him to where the rock appear'd to jut And form a something like a Triton's hut; For all was darkness for a space, till day Through clefts above let in a sober'd ray; As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle The dusty monuments from light recoil, Thus sadly in their refuge submarine The vault drew half her shadow from the And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand, And waved along the vault her kindled brand, And led him into each recess, and show'd With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell which bore |