Again the favoring gale arose, the barque went bounding on, And speedily her destined port was now in safety won. And after, when green Trimount's hills greet their expectant eyes, New thanks to Heaven, new hymns of joy unto the Lord arise. For glory be unto our Lord, and to His name be praise! Upon the deep he walketh, in the ocean are his ways. 'Tis meet that we should worship him who doeth right always.
Oh the dreamy world of sleep for me, With its visions pure and bright,-- Its fairy throngs in revelry, Under the pale moonlight! Sleep, sleep, I wait for thy spell, For my eyes are heavy with watching well For the starry night, and the world of dreams That ever in sleep on my spirit beams.
The day, the day, I cannot 'bide, 'Tis dull and dusty and drear-- And, owl-like, away from the sun I hide, That in dreams I may wander freer. Sleep, sleep, come to my eyes-- Welcome as blue to the midnight skies-- Faithful as dew to drooping flowers-- I only live in thy dreamy bowers.
The sun is purpling down the west, Day's death-robes glitter fair, And weary men, agasp for rest, For the solemn night prepare. Sleep, sleep, hasten to me! The shadows lengthen across the lea; The birds are weary, and so am I; Tired world and dying day good-bye!
On the deck of the pirate craft stood a young man of powerful frame, and singularly savage features, rendered more repulsive by the disposition of the hair which was allowed to grow almost over the entire mouth, and hung from the chin in heavy masses nearly to the waist. With his elbow resting against the fore-mast of the vessel, he was gazing through a spy-glass upon the brig he had been so long pursuing. A burly negro stood at the helm, holding the tiller, and steering the brig with an ease which denoted his vast strength, scarcely moving his body, but meeting the long waves, which washed over the side of the vessel, and rushed in torrents through the hawse-holes, merely by the power of his arm.
"Keep her more in the wind," shouted the commander, with an oath, to the helmsman.
"Ay, ay sir," responded the negro gruffly.
"Don't let me hear a sail flap again or I'll score your back for you, you son of a sea-cook."
With this pleasant admonition the young man resumed his night-glass.