THE CASTAWAYS.
A FAIR boy sat upon the rocky shore,
Watching the wild birds to their sea nest soar;
So tall he was, and lithe, and strong of mien,
Though scarce fourteen summer suns he had seen,
His brow was open and it spoke of truth
With all the mantling flush and fire of youth!
His hair was full dark as the ravens' wing,
With that Grecian face of which poets sing;—
His large hazel eyes would flash like a fire,
When fanned into flame by joy or by ire!—
And yet when grief would obscure their bright blaze,
A mournful sadness o'ershadowed their gaze;—
A fond heart more true there never could be
Than that of the young and brave Horace Lee!
Alone he sat, till the fast setting sun,
With purple and gold its course it had run.
At length he cried out in a rapturous voice,
"O! ocean to thee I now give my choice!
Watching the wild birds to their sea nest soar;
So tall he was, and lithe, and strong of mien,
Though scarce fourteen summer suns he had seen,
His brow was open and it spoke of truth
With all the mantling flush and fire of youth!
His hair was full dark as the ravens' wing,
With that Grecian face of which poets sing;—
His large hazel eyes would flash like a fire,
When fanned into flame by joy or by ire!—
And yet when grief would obscure their bright blaze,
A mournful sadness o'ershadowed their gaze;—
A fond heart more true there never could be
Than that of the young and brave Horace Lee!
Alone he sat, till the fast setting sun,
With purple and gold its course it had run.
At length he cried out in a rapturous voice,
"O! ocean to thee I now give my choice!
