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96 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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May fevers long burn thee, And agues long freeze thee !
May the strong hand of God In His red anger seize thee! |
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Had he died calmly
I would not deplore him, -Or if the wild strife
Of the sea-war closed o'er him; But with ropes round his white limbs
Through ocean to trail him, Like a fish after slaughter —
'Tis therefore I wail him. |
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Long may the curse
Of his people pursue them: Scully that sold him,
And soldier that slew him ! One glimpse of heaven's light
May they see never! May the hearthstone of hell
Be their best bed forever ! |
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Ih the hole which the vile hands
Of soldiers had made thee, Unhonoured, unshrouded,
And headless they laid thee; No sigh to regret thee,
No eye to rain o'er thee, No dirge to lament thee,
No friend to deplore thee! |
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