No!—for a filmy mold invests
His long untroubled brow;—
His eyeballs green sought not his guests,
Nor can he turn them now.
SINKING OF THE LONDON.
A crumbling page before him lay,
Which told the unspoken woe;—
“Our cabin fire went out to-day—
Food spent five days ago;—
“Locked in the ice three weeks,—our crew
All dead,—all hope is o’er;—
Ship Rufus—1762—
One hour, and I’m no more!”