"Give back the lost and lovely! Those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long,
The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song!
Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown—
But all is not thine own!
"To thee the love of woman hath gone down.
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head,
O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown.
Yet must thou hear a voice—Restore the dead!
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee:
Restore the dead, thou sea!"—Mrs. Hemans.
CHAPTER XI.
THE WRECK OF THE "FORFARSHIRE."
"Never bronze, nor slab of stone,
May their sepulchre denote:
O'er their burial place alone
Shall the shifting sea-weed float.
"Not for them the quiet grave
Underneath the daisied turf;
They rest below the restless wave,
They sleep below the sleepless surf.
"O'er them shall the waters wrestle
With the whirlwind from the land,
But their bones will only nestle
Closer down into the sand;
"And for ever, wind and surge,
Loud or low, shall be their dirge;
And each idle wave that breaks
Henceforth upon any shore,
Shall be dearer for their sakes,
Shall be holy evermore."—E. H. O.
Only they who have had to brave the dangers of the deep for many years, can understand what its perils really are. Unfortunately, as the reader knows, these are so great and frequent, that to describe a wreck is but to take one of many which have been still more sad and disastrous. But as the wreck of the "Forfarshire" deserves especial mention, because of the heroic conduct of the lighthouse-girl, it will be necessary that we should become acquainted with as many of its details as have been preserved.