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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), The tent on the Beach (search)
eirdly to and fro In and out of the peat's dull glow, And old men mending their nets of twine, Talk together of dream and sign, Talk of the lost ship Palatine,— The ship that, a hundred years before, Freighted deep with its goodly store, In the gales of the equinox went ashore. The eager islanders one by one Counted the shots of her signal gun, And heard the crash when she drove right on! Into the teeth of death she sped: （May God forgive the hands that fed The false lights over the rocky Head!) O men and brothers! what sights were there! White upturned faces, hands stretched in prayer! Where waves had pity, could ye not spare? Down swooped the wreckers, like birds of prey Tearing the heart of the ship away, And the dead had never a word to say. And then, with ghastly shimmer and shine Over the rocks and the seething brine, They burned the wreck of the Palatine. In their cruel hearts, as they homeward sped, ‘The sea and the rocks are dumb,’ they said: ‘There'll be no recko