“I may not break thy bread, mother,” The eldest ’gan to say, “But I will sit on thy hearth, mother, And warm me while I may: Beyond the northern shore, For seven long years and more. Can set my body free; And Winter keeps the key. Because of a broken vow, That holds my body now! I took me to the sea, That there was built for me; Her hull of the oaken tree. “ Her sails were of the canvas stout, To face the fiercest wind, And I manned her with twenty-four young men, The bravest that I could find. “ And away we sailed, through rough and smooth, Away to the Indian seas, And killed their companies. “Our ship was laden with seven ship’s store,' . From the top-mast to the hold; And all we used in that lordly ship Was made of the beaten gold. And heavily she sailed, and slow:- When not a breath did blow ! “I woke as from a frightful dream, In a bower, I knew not where, And by me knelt an Indian maid, Who cooled the burning air ; With a sweet fan of Indian flowers, She cooled the burning air. “'T was the kindest maid that ever loved, A very child in truth; In the glory of her youth. A rich, barbaric place; The love of all her race. “They clothed me as they clothe a king, They set me next the throne, And twenty snow-white elephants They gave me for mine own. “Ah, me! how I requited them, It has been told in heaven! And a thousand years must come and go Ere that sin be forgiven: “ And a thousand more must come and go . Ere from my soul can fall The burthen of my broken vows, The heaviest guilt of all ! “I trampled on her true heart's love, The Indian stream ran red, - With the pure young blood I shed ! “Once more I built myself a boat, Of the heart of the hard teak-tree, I took no mariners on board, And again I went to sea. “My mast was made of the Indian cane, My sail of the silken twine; My ropes they were of the tendrils strong I pulled from the Indian vine. “ I laded my boat with a thousand things That guilt had made my own; The meanest things I took with me Were the pearl and the diamond stone. “ 'T was a heavy freight—'t was a heavy freight That lay the boat within ; But the heaviest weight was in my soul - . The load of seven years' sin ! “ I never again set foot on land, It had no port for me,- So I was on the sea. “ My food was the fish my bark beside, My drink the gathered rain ; And I grew horrid to look upon, A spectre of the main ! “My fame was a terror everywhere, Like a Spirit of the blast, Its people looked aghast. “Thou could'st not have known thy son, mother, Hadst thou beheld my face, When, after seven years voyaging, I found my resting place ; “In the wild north-sea, 'neath the billowy ice I lie, while time shall be, Who made that grave for me! “But the first cock crows-I must be gone!- No more have I to tell; Dear mother, fare thee well!” The second spake—" Woe's me for sin ! My elder brother's guilt is light; His place of torment is the earth, And there comes day and night! “ I left thy pleasant home, mother, With thy blessing on my head, — Thy wisest son, as people deemed; And to the city sped. “I lived a life of rioting, To an ill course was bent; In wickedness I spent. “I ran the round of low debauch, Careless though all might see,There was no goodness in my soul, No human dignity. |