But what is that which has fallen from the main-topsail-yard down into the sea beneath? The bubbling foam conceals it for a moment, but it rises to the surface. From a break between the dark heavy clouds the moon casts a solitary ray, mild as a compassionate smile. It is the boy--the boy who loved the blue billows so much--he has fallen into their wild embrace, and they like him too well to give him up again. In vain do anxious faces bend over the side of the ship; in vain are ropes cast out; the small hands fight but a feeble battle for life; the fair curly head, over which his unseen mother's prayers and blessings are at that moment hovering, raises itself once more in the pale moonshine; but the struggle is soon over. Some few undefined thoughts flit through his soul: he fancies that he hears his mother's voice. Yes, peace be with you, child! She is praying with you at your hour of death. And he sinks down--down--calmly beneath the waves. The subsiding tempest chants his requiem; the moon sheds a farewell ray upon the spot where he sank; and the grave has closed over the sea-boy's corpse! The war of the elements is over, and the ship glides peacefully into its destined harbour.
[DEATH AND HIS VICTIMS.]
BY ADAM OEHLENSCHLŒGER.
Though I am feeble, yet, dear Death,
Awhile let me remain!
'Old man--thy locks are white as snow--
Still thou art loth with me to go:
But come--thy pray'r is vain!'
I am in manhood's prime--wouldst thou
Then break my staff to-day?--