"Oh, God! that horrid, horrid dream
Besets me now awake!
Again-again, with dizzy brain,

The human life I take;

And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer's at the stake.

"And still no peace for the restless clay,
Will wave or mould allow;

The horrid thing pursues my soul,—
It stands before me now!"

The fearful Boy look'd up and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.

That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin eyelids kiss'd,

Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
And Eugene Aram walk'd between,
With gyves upon his wrist,

THE SEA-SPELL.

"Cauld, cauld, he lies beneath the deep."

Old Scotch Ballad

I.

It was a jolly mariner !

The tallest man of three,

He loosed his sail against the wind,

And turned his boat to sea :

The ink-black sky told every eye,

A storm was soon to be!

II.

But still that jolly mariner
Took in no reef at all,

For, in his pouch, confidingly,
He wore a baby's caul;

A thing, as gossip-nurses know,
That always brings a squall!

III.

His hat was knew, or, newly glazed, Shone brightly in the sun;

His jacket, like a mariner's,

True blue as e'er was spun;

His ample trowsers, like Saint Paul,

Bore forty stripes save one.

IV.

And now the fretting foaming tide
He steer'd away to cross;

The bounding pinnance play'd a game

Of dreary pitch and toss ;

A game that, on the good dry land,
Is apt to bring a loss!

V.

Good Heaven befriend that little boat,

And guide her on her way!

A boat, they say, has canvas wings,

But cannot fly away!

Though, like a merry singing-bird,

She sits upon the spray!

VI.

Still east by south the little boat,
With tawny sail, kept beating:

Now out of sight, between two waves, Now o'er th' horizon fleeting :

Like greedy swine that feed on mast, The waves her mast seem'd eating!

VII.

The sullen sky grew black above,
The wave as black beneath;
Each roaring billow show'd full soon
A white and foamy wreath ;
Like angry dogs that snarl at first,

And then display their teeth.

VIII

The boatman looked against the wind, The mast began to creak,

The wave, per saltum, came and dried,

In salt, upon his cheek!

The pointed wave against him rear'd,

As if it own'd a pique !

ix.

Nor rushing wind, nor gushing wave,

That boatman could alarm,

But still he stood away to sea,

And trusted in his charm;

He thought by purchase he was safe,

And arm'd against all harm!

X.

Now thick and fast and far aslant,
The stormy rain came pouring,
He heard, upon the sandy bank,
The distant breakers roaring,—
A groaning intermitting sound,
Like Gog and Magog snoring!

XI.

The sea-fowl shriek'd around the mast,
Ahead the grampus tumbled,

And far off, from a copper cloud,
The hollow thunder rumbled;

It would have quail'd another heart,

But his was never humbled.

XII.

For why? he had that infant's caul;
And wherefore should he dread?
Alas! alas! he little thought,

Before the ebb-tide sped,—

That like that infant, he should die,

And with a watery head!

XIII.

The rushing brine flow'd in apace;
His boat had ne'er a deck;

Fate seem'd to call him on, and he
Attended to her beck;

And so he went, still trusting on,

Though reckless-to his wreck !

XIV.

For as he left his helm, to heave

The ballast-bags a-weather,

Three monstrous seas came roaring on,

Like lions leagued together.

The two first waves the little boat

Swam over like a feather.

XV.

The two first waves were past and gone,

And sinking in her wake;

The hugest still came leaping on,

And hissing like a snake;

Now helm a-lee! for through the midst,

The monster he must take !

XVI.

Ah, me! it was a dreary mount!
Its base as black as night,

Its top of pale and livid green,
Its crest of awful white,

Like Neptune with a leprosy,—

And so it rear'd upright!

XVII.

With quaking sails, the little boat
Climb'd up the foaming heap;
With quaking sails it paused awhile,
At balance on the steep;

Then rushing down the nether slope,

Plunged with a dizzy sweep!

XVIII.

Look, how a horse, made mad with fear,
Disdains his careful guide;

So now the headlong headstrong boat,
Unmanaged, turns aside,

And straight presents her reeling flank

Against the swelling tide!

XIX.

The gusty wind assaults the sail;

Her ballast lies a-lee !

The sheet's to windward taught and stiff!

Oh! the Lively-where is she?

Her capsiz'd keel is in the foam,

Her pennon's in the sea!