Back on themselves, — their sins remain'd | His light brown locks, so graceful in their flow, alone. Proscribed even in their second country, they Dug, like a spreading pestilence, the grave Even Greece can boast but one Thermopyla Back to a sword, and dies and lives again! Close on the wild, wide ocean, yet as pure threw Their arms aside to revel in its dew; From wounds whose only bandage might died. Stern, and aloof a little from the rest, Stood Christian, with his arms across his chest. The ruddy, reckless, dauntless hue, once spread Now rose like startled vipers o'er his brow. Some paces further Torquil lean'd his head Shew'd that his faintness came not from At lengthJackSkyscrape,a mercurial man, Who fluttered over all things like a fan, More brave than firm, and more disposed to dare And die at once than wrestle with despair, Nucleus of England's native eloquence, But merely added to the oath, his eyes; Along his cheek, was livid now as lead ; A peroration I need not repeat. But Christian, of an higher order, stood Like an extinct volcano in his mood; Silent, and sad, and savage,-with the trace Of passion reeking from his clouded face; Till lifting up again his sombre eye, It glanced on Torquil who lean'd faintly by. "And is it thus ?" he cried, "unhappy boy! And thee too, thee my madness must destroy." And who the first that, springing on the strand, Leap'd like a Nereid from her shell to land, With dark but brilliant skin, and dewy eye Shining with love, and hope, and constancy? Neuha, the fond, the faithful, the adored, Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent pour'd; And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasp'd, He said, and strode to where young Torquil | As if to be assured 'twas him she grasp'd; Shudder'd to see his yet warm wound, and stood, Yet dabbled with his lately flowing blood; Seized his hand wistfully, but did not press, And shrunk as fearful of his own caress; Enquired into his state; and when he heard The wound was slighter than he deem'd or fear'd, A moment's brightness pass'd along his brow, As much as such a moment would allow. "Yes," he exclaim'd, “we are taken in the toil, But not a coward or a common spoil; Dearly they have bought us—dearly still may buy,And I must fall; but have you strength to fly? "Twould be some comfort still, could you survive: Our dwindled band is now too few to strive. Oh! for a sole canoe! though but a shell, To bear you hence to where a hope may dwell! But brief their time for good or evil thought; The billows round the promontory brought The plash of hostile oars - Alas! who made That sound a dread? All round them seem'd array'd Against them, save the bride of Toobonai: She, as she caught the first glimpse o'er the bay Of the arm'd boats which hurried to complete The remnant's ruin with their flying feet, Beckon'd the natives round her to their prows, Embark'd their guests, and launch'd their light canoes; In one placed Christian and his comrades twain; But she and Torquil must not part again. She fix'd him in her own-away! away! They clear the breakers, dart along the bay, And towards a group of islets, such as bear The sea-bird's nest and seal's surf-hollow'd lair, They skim the blue tops of the billows; fast They flew, and fast their fierce pursuers | By her command removed, to strengthen chased. cove more The skiff which wafted Christian from the shore. This he would have opposed: but with; a smile She pointed calmly to the craggy isle, And bade him "speed and prosper." She would take The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake. They parted with this added aid; afar And now the refuge and the foe are nigh-The proa darted like a shooting star, Yet, yet a moment!-Fly,thou light Ark,fly! And gain'd on the pursuers, who now steer'd near'd. They pull'd; her arm, though delicate, was free And firm as ever grappled with the sea, Within an hundred boats' length was the foe, Is this a place of safety, or a grave, They rested on their paddles, and uprose follow!" shore. There was no landing on that precipice, The little whirl which eddied, and slight White as a sepulchre above the pair, Was all that told of Torquil and his bride; | And clapp'd her hands with joy at his Even superstition now forbade their stay. spray. Torquil, the nursling of the northern seas, Pursued her liquid steps with art and ease. Deep-deeper for an instant Neuha led The way then upward soar'd—and, as she spread Her arms, and flung the foam from off her locks, Laugh'd, and the sound was answer'd by the rocks. They had gain'd a central realm of earth again, But look'd for tree, and field,and sky, in vain. Around she pointed to a spacious cave, Whose only portal was the keyless wave; (A hollow archway by the sun unseen, Save through the billows' glassy veil of green, In some transparent ocean-holiday, surprise; Led him to where the rock appear'd to fut And form a something like a Triton's hut; For all was darkness for a space, till day Through clefts above let in a sober'd ray; As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle The dusty monuments from light recoil, Thus sadly in their refuge submarine The vault drew half her shadow from the Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus array'd The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high, And show'd a self-born Gothic canopy; The arch uprear'd by Nature's architect, The architrave some earthquake might erect; The buttress from some mountain's bosom hurl'd, When the Poles crash'd and Water was the World; Or harden'd from some earth-absorbing fire While yet the globe reek'd from its funeral pyre; The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave, Were there, all scoop'd by Darkness from her Cave. There, with a little tinge of Phantasy. Fantastic faces moped and mow'd on high, And then a mitre or a shrine would fix The eye upon its seeming crucifix. And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand, And waved along the vault her kindled brand, And led him into each recess, and show'd With its broad leaf,or turtle-shell which bore She, as he gazed with grateful wonder, press'd Her shelter'd love to her impassion'd breast; he led His island-clan to where the waters spread When, fresh and springing from the deep, With sounding conchs and joyous shouts to shore; How they had gladly loved and calmly died, The wave which bore them still, their foes way, would bear. Who, disappointed of their former chase, In search of Christian now renew'd their race. Eager with anger, their strong arms made Like vultures baffled of their previous prey. They gain'd upon them, all whose safety lay In some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay: No further chance or choice remain'd; and For the first further rock which met their right sight They steer'd,to take their latest view of land, And yield as victims, or die sword in hand; Dismiss'd the natives and their shallop, who Would still have battled for that scanty Begun the praises of a thousand years; And this they knew and felt, at least the one, |