Another night—“Heigh-ho!”
The reef-foam gleamed like snow,—
Old Coney’s serf below,
The Narrows stretched before them—
With Staten on their left,
And Bedloe’s, far bereft,
And Governor’s, as cleft
From Brooklyn, frowning o’er them.
“I pray thee, father, tell
Why doth that doleful bell
Sound so much like a knell,
So near this gloomy water?”
“’Tis nought, my Leonore,
But watchmen on the shore,
Who toll, while burghers snore,
To fright the Fiend of Slaughter!
“For here the Indian roves
Through islands’ darkling groves,
And those he hates he loves
To wing his arrows through them;
For they are robbers come
To steal away his home;
Tribe after tribe must roam,
And e’en in trade they ‘do’ them!”[D]
Past Wallabout’s cosy nook,
And stormy Corlear’s Hook,
Which many a storied book
Involves in truth and fable,—
Past Blackwell’s wooded shore,
Where turbid waters pour,
Dark, sullen evermore,
Ignoring man or cable;—
Past these the pirate’s sail
Swells wide before the gale,
Which, like a demon’s wail,
Sighs through the cordage, shrilling.
“Oh, father!” cries the maid,
“If blood be on your blade,
Pray now to Heaven for aid
While Heaven yet is willing!
“The stormy petrels fly
Along the waves more nigh—
Then wheel athwart the sky,
Heralds of storm impending!
Nearer the lightnings flash—
Nearer the thunders crash—
Louder the waters lash
These baleful shores, unending!
“Behold those racking clouds!
List to the shivering shrouds!
Lo! spirits come in crowds
From yonder lurid shore!
Oh, father! bend thy knee
Before that fiery sea
Sweeps over thee and me,—
Lost—lost—forevermore!”
“Hush—daughter!—Do not think
Your father fears to sink
Who’s stood on Death’s dark brink
In many a furious fray!—
Our castle by the sea
Is Heaven’s shrine to me,
Where one on bended knee
This night for us will pray!”
“Oh, father! List!—I hear
Swift rapids roaring near;—
Oh, what is it I fear
So close our promised haven?”
“’Tis nought, my Leonore,
But waters ’long the shore,
That through dark Hell Gate pour,
Clamorous as a raven!”
“Then, turn, my father, back,—
I hear the vessel crack,—
I dread those waters black,
Hot as the lightning o’er us!”
“Nay—daughter—fear no harm,—
Their tides are not more warm
Than springs upon a farm,—
No danger lurks before us!”