Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/256

That the bushman followed to strike the spot,—
While the dogs and natives were all forgot.
In two days, from that camp on the River Swan,
To the Shark's Bay Sound had the settlers gone;
And no merciful feeling did one retard
For the helpless men and their terrible guard.

It were vain to try, in my quiet room,
To write down the truth of the awful doom
That befell those savages prisoned there.
When the pangs of hunger and wild despair
Had nigh made them mad as the fiends outside:
'Tis enough that one night, through the low ebb tide,
Swam nine hundred savages, armed with stones
And with weapons made from then-dead friends' bones.
Without ripple or sound, when the moon was gone,
Through the inky water they glided on;
Swimming deep, and scarce daring to draw a breath,
While the guards, if they saw, were as dumb as death.