The Fugitives
The waters are flashing,The white hail is dashing,The lightnings are glancing,The hoar-spray is dancing--Away!
The whirlwind is rolling,The thunder is tolling,The forest is swinging,The minster bells ringing--Come away!
The Earth is like Ocean,Wreck-strewn and in motion:Bird, beast, man and wormHave crept out of the storm--Come away!
'Our boat has one sailAnd the helmsman is pale;--A bold pilot I trow,Who should follow us now,'--Shouted he--
And she cried: 'Ply the oar!Put off gaily from shore!'--As she spoke, bolts of deathMixed with hail, specked their pathO'er the sea.
And from isle, tower and rock,The blue beacon-cloud broke,And though dumb in the blast,The red cannon flashed fastFrom the lee.
And 'Fear'st thou?' and 'Fear'st thou?'And Seest thou?' and 'Hear'st thou?'And 'Drive we not freeO'er the terrible sea,I and thou?'
One boat-cloak did coverThe loved and the lover--Their blood beats one measure,They murmur proud pleasureSoft and low;--
While around the lashed Ocean,Like mountains in motion,Is withdrawn and uplifted,Sunk, shattered and shiftedTo and fro.
In the court of the fortressBeside the pale portress,Like a bloodhound well beatenThe bridegroom stands, eatenBy shame;
On the topmost watch-turret,As a death-boding spiritStands the gray tyrant father,To his voice the mad weatherSeems tame;
And with curses as wildAs e'er clung to child,He devotes to the blast,The best, loveliest and lastOf his name!
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