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Taken from The League of the Alps, and Other Poems, 1826, Boston.
65
THE WRECK.
All night the booming minute-gun
Had peal'd along the deep,
And mournfully the rising sun
Look'd o'er the tide-worn steep.
A bark from India's coral strand,
Before the raging blast,
Had vail'd her topsails to the sand,
And bow'd her noble mast.
The queenly ship!—brave hearts had striven,
And true ones died with her—
We saw her mighty cable riven,
Like floating gossamer.
We saw her proud flag struck that morn,
A star once o'er the seas—
Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn,
And sadder things than these.
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