| |
| HE 1 sat upon the wave-wash’d shore, | |
| With madness in his eye; | |
| The surge’s dash—the breaker’s roar, | |
| Pass’d unregarded by— | |
| He noted not the billows’ roll, | 5 |
| He heeded not their strife,— | |
| For terror had usurp’d his soul, | |
| And stopp’d the streams of life. | |
| |
| They spoke him kindly—but he gazed, | |
| And offer’d no reply— | 10 |
| They gave him food—he look’d amazed, | |
| And threw the morsel by. | |
| He was as one o’er whom a spell | |
| Of darkness hath been cast; | |
| His spirit seem’d alone to dwell | 15 |
| With dangers that were past. | |
| |
| The city of his home and heart, | |
| So grand—so gaily bright, | |
| Now, touch’d by Fate’s unerring dart, | |
| Had vanish’d from his sight. | 20 |
| The earthquake’s paralyzing shake | |
| Had rent it from its hold— | |
| And nothing but a putrid lake | |
| Its tale of terror told. | |
| |
| His kindred there, a numerous band, | 25 |
| Had watch’d his youthful bloom— | |
| In the broad ruin of the land, | |
| All—all had met their doom! | |
| But the last night, a mother’s voice | |
| Breathed over him in prayer— | 30 |
| She perish’d—he was left no choice | |
| But mute and blank despair. | |
| |
| He sat alone, of all the crowd | |
| That lately throng’d around— | |
| The ocean winds were piping loud, | 35 |
| He did not heed their sound; | |
| They ask’d him of that city’s fate, | |
| But reason’s reign was o’er— | |
| He pointed to her ruin’d state, | |
| Then fled—and spoke no more. | 40 |
