Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/156

But boil with wild tumultuous sway,
The maelstrom of Niagara.
And there, within that rocky bound,
In swift gyrations round and round,
    Mysterious course it held,
Now springing from the torrent hoarse,
Now battling as with maniac force,
    To mortal strife compelled.

Right fearful 'neath the moonbeam bright,
It was to see that brow so white,
    And mark the ghastly dead
Leap upward from his torture-bed,
    As if in passion-gust,
And tossing wild with agony,
To mock the omnipotent decree,
    Of dust to dust.

At length, where smoother waters flow,
Emerging from the gulf below,
The hapless youth they gained and bore,
Sad to his own forsaken door:
There watched his dog, with straining eye,
And scarce would let the train pass by,
    Save that with instinct's rushing spell,
Through the changed cheek's empurpled hue,
And stiff and stony form, he knew
    The master he had loved so well.