Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/103

The monsters of the sea, at last aroused
From their long stupid sleep. But half awake,
Drowsy and dull, and heavy still, they come,
The sharks—yea, hundreds of the ravenous sharks,
With eyes fixed on the ship in wonder mute.
They have perceived, however, that the hour
For breakfast has not dawned as yet. They gape,
They open wide the caverns of their throats,
Demoniac jaws displaying, set with rows
Of teeth, that look like, and are sharp as, saws.
And dideldumidei! And schnedderedeng!
Still, still the dance whirls furious on. The sharks
From sheer impatience bite each other's tails.
I think they love not music. Those do not
Who are their similars amongst our kind.
Old Albion's poet world-renowned has sung
The man who has no music in his soul
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils,
Never on such a creature put thou trust.
And dideldumdei! And schnedderedeng!
The dance whirls on, and on, and endless on!
Mynheer Van Kock is seated near the mast—
The great mast of the ship—his hands are joined,
His eyes half-closed, as thus devout he prays:
'O good Lord! For the precious love of Christ,
Spare, spare the remnant of these sinners black!
If they have Thee offended, Thou, O Lord,
Knowest they are as stupid as the kine.
Spare Thou their lives, and spare for Jesus' sake,
Who died for us, yea, all of us, and paid
The ransom full. For oh! if there remain
Not full three hundred, when I reach the port
Of Rio Janeiro, then I shall have made
A sorry business of it, and instead
Of reaping profit, shall have suffered loss!'