What matter though a despot Breaks down the despot's sway? And we we scorn its teaching? With crowns and thrones, with peoples What, we who vaunt our freedom, To win the rights we prize? O were the Word but spoken GOD SPARE MY BOY AT SEA! How wild without is the moaning night! And the waves race in, how fierce and white! But white as the waves is she; 78 THE SEA-BOY'S DREAM. To the window that looks to sea she steals, How wild is that trembling mother's prayer! 66 "O God, where'er he be, "O God! my God! in pity spare "My boy to-night at sea!" Hark! tossing and tumbling, white as snow, And O how sick is that mother's heart! For her poor sake, in pity spare THE SEA-BOY'S DREAM. Two years from home-five months from land- And by the ship's side how he'll stand His home-thoughts to enjoy! Down the clear sea his eyes may look, To look they do but seem; And oh, as there he leans apart, How eyes look love into his heart! Whose eyes? Whose eyes? And does it task Your thought at once to guess? Ah! whose the eyes his heart would ask The tears that to the boy's eyes steal, To hear her," Boy, no more we'll part !" THE CURFEW. A WELCOME TO THE AUSTRIAN CONCORDAT. YES, still that ancient cry Our living ears affrights; "Put out-put out your lights!" A rushlight now affrights These friends of darkness; hark! All lights these priests condemn ; Too bright for man's weak sight; See; Austria's despot quakes For thought Rome, too, affrights; "Put out-put out your lights!" How France, lit up so long, Has shock'd, O Rome, your sight! Her lights are far too strong; A single gleam, affrights; Of late its eyes to use; Their night would fain refuse; Even Rome itself they find These friends of darkness well To set all this to rights; Quick, Holy Office, see To this! "Put out your lights !" They're sighing for the blaze Of Smithfield once again; For Mary Tudor's days, Dear monks, they'll sigh in vain ; No more the times return Of all their old delights, To gag, and rack, and burn; "Put out-put out your lights!" Thank God! we here can scoff "Put out-put out your lights!" THE SLAVERS' WRECK. A HINT TO CERTAIN EMPERORS. Ho! godless madmen at the helm, Right through the breakers go; God-doom'd, your onward course you shape His vengeance long you will not 'scape, Godless-accurst-right plain we see You to destruction go; Who cares? The rocks that wreck you free Hark! madmen, through the thickening gloom I hear the surf's deep roar ; How fast, all reckless of your doom, You drive towards the shore. Ho! breakers left and right I see, Ahead they're white as snow. Who cares? The rocks that wreck you free Your prison'd slaves below. Ah! did you care my course to try, You might at danger scoff; Your bondsmen's help with freedom buy; Quick! strike their fetters off! But, while they're slaves, no help they'll be; The rocks that wreck their masters, free G |