THE FISHERMEN OF WEXFORD.
101
Like to a human heart that loved, and hoped for some return,
To find at last but hatred, so the sea-wind seemed to mourn.
But ah! the Wexford fishermen! their nets did scarcely sink
One inch below the foam, when, lo! the daring boatmen shrink
With sudden awe and whitened lips and glaring eyes agape.
For breast-high, threatening, from the sea uprose a Human Shape!
Beyond them,—in the moonlight,—hand upraised and awful mien,
Waving back and pointing landwards, breast-high in the sea 'twas seen.
Thrice it waved and thrice it pointed,—then, with clenched hand upraised,
The awful shape went down before the fishers as they gazed!
