He loos'd the rope, he seized the oar,
And vaulted o'er the side,
And rapidly his little boat
Flies through the stormy tide.
The wind is loud, the waves are strong,
And vainly Edmund strives
To guide his boat, which furiously
The tempest onward drives.
His passion gone, his fears increase,
And loud to George he cries;
He looks—he listens—calls again,
But still no George replies.
In terror now and wild affright,
All prudence he forgets,
And springing quick from side to side,
The boat he oversets.
His father saw the dreadful plunge,
His father heard his shriek;
For George, when Edmund would not stay,
Some aid had flown to seek.
With desperate haste he forward springs,
And throwing off his coat,
Plunges amid the foaming waves,
To gain the struggling boat.
He reach'd its side, and diving down,
Seiz'd on poor Edmund's hand,
And senseless through the beating surge,
He bore him back to land.
'Twas long ere signs of life return'd,
Or he unclos'd his eyes,
And longer far it was, ere he
From his sick bed could rise.
What anguish and remorse he felt,
What tears of sorrow shed:
How good, how mild he vow'd to be,
When he should leave his bed.
And let us hope his vow he'll keep,
Become a steady boy,
No more his friends or parents grieve,
But prove their pride and joy.