Fierce from his nightly watch and native wood,
Lur'd by the distant scent of morbid blood,
The tiger rushes by foul carnage led,
From the fresh tomb tears up the reeking dead,
Devours the mangled limbs—churns the chill gore,
The last avenger of th' insulted shore!
Like the wild screaming of the midnight blast,
'Midst the torn cordage of the shatter'd mast,
With notes that pierce th' unwholsome welkin through,
The shrill-blown pipe convenes the drooping crew.