THE PORTSMOUTH SAILOR.
87
"Ah, well;—with loving, lonely hearts
We followed his foaming track,
Looking aye for the golden morn
That should bring our darling back;—
When with winter we heard the awful news,
From a bark in Boston bay,
That the Algerines had the "Cadiz" seized,
And her crew were slaves of the Dey!
We followed his foaming track,
Looking aye for the golden morn
That should bring our darling back;—
When with winter we heard the awful news,
From a bark in Boston bay,
That the Algerines had the "Cadiz" seized,
And her crew were slaves of the Dey!
"'But he lives,' said his stricken mother;
'He lives, and may come in peace!'
And as one who would not be denied
She prayed for his release;
While slow the seasons went their round
Till thrice 't was March and May,
And thrice the ships from the Indian isles
In the harbor anchored lay.
'He lives, and may come in peace!'
And as one who would not be denied
She prayed for his release;
While slow the seasons went their round
Till thrice 't was March and May,
And thrice the ships from the Indian isles
In the harbor anchored lay.
"Oh, happy for her she could not see
Her boy on the burning plain,
Scorn of the caravan southward bound
For a Moorish master's gain;—
Through torrid noons and chilly nights
Till that day of horror fell
When a cloud came rolling up from the waste
With a billow's surge and swell,
And the dread simoom swept over their path
A league from Tishlah's well!
Her boy on the burning plain,
Scorn of the caravan southward bound
For a Moorish master's gain;—
Through torrid noons and chilly nights
Till that day of horror fell
When a cloud came rolling up from the waste
With a billow's surge and swell,
And the dread simoom swept over their path
A league from Tishlah's well!
"In flaming gusts, all fitfully,
The blast of the desert blew;
The blast of the desert blew;
