His voice is low—his smile is sweet—
He has a girl’s blue eyes;
And yet I would far rather meet
The storm in yonder skies.
The fiercest of our pirate band
Holds at his name the breath;
For there is blood on his right hand,
And in his heart is death.
He knows he rides above his grave,
Yet careless is his eye;
He looks with scorn upon the wave,
With scorn upon the sky.
Great God! the sights that I have seen
When far upon the main!
I’d rather that my death had been
Than see those sights again.
Pale faces glimmer, and are gone,
Wild voices rise from shore;
I see one giant wave sweep on—
It breaks!—we rise no more.
GIBRALTAR FROM THE SEA—p.20.
This view of the Rock of Gibraltar places it before the spectator in a new light, and conducts rapidly to reflection upon the boldness of those who attempted the reduction of such a fortress, as well as upon the bravery of those, who persevered in the defence of a citadel so bare, so bleak, so barren, so remote from any source of encouragement or supply. The rocky faces, here expressed, look towards the waters of the Mediterranean, and down upon that singular accumulation of fine sand, which, originating at the very edge of the sea, ascends almost to the loftiest pinnacle of the rock. From the lowest extremity of this inclined plain, the water becomes suddenly deep. One of the boldest efforts ever made to surprise the rock, took place at this approach. A French officer, in imitation of the Gaul of olden time, attended by 500 followers, landed at the foot of the sandy slope, and, aided by the darkness of night, reached the highest point of the rock in safety. From this rendezvous they were to have rushed down and surprised the garrison, while a second party was to commence an attack from below. Their courage proved superior to their powers of attack and defence, and the morning only shone, to light the garrison of Gibraltar to the destruction of this brave little band of heroes.
