And can this be the vessel
That went so boldly forth,
With the red flag of Old England,
To brave the stormy North?
There were blessings poured upon her
When from her port sailed she,
And prayers and anxious weeping
Went with her o'er the sea.
And once she sent home letters,
And joyous ones were they,
Dashed but with fond remembrance
Of friends so far away.
Ah! many a heart was happy
That evening when they came,
And many a lip pressed kisses
On a beloved name!
How little those who read them
Deemed far below the wave,
That child, and sire, and lover,
Had found a seaman's grave!
But how that brave ship perished
None knew, save Him on high;
No island heard her cannon,
No other bark was nigh.
We only know from England
She sailed far o'er the main—
We only know to England
She never came again.
And eyes grew dim with watching,
That yet refused to weep;
And years were spent in hoping
For tidings from the deep.
It grew an old man's story
Upon their native shore,—
God rest those souls in Heaven
Who met on earth no more!
L. E. L.
