WITH drooping sail and shattered mast, Sir Walter's galleons lay Beyond the bar, but soon they cast Anchor in Plymouth Bay. He leaped to shore with bated breath, For there, right full in view, Stood his fair wife, Elizabeth, And his fair son, Carew. And while he soothed her pale alarms, With words all passion-sweet, He heard a troop of men-at-arms Come clattering down the street. Sir Lewis quickly drew his blade, As from his steed he sprang, And on his kinsman's shoulder laid Its weight, with sudden clang. He gave no greet; but on the ear His words did sharply ring— "Sir Walter, I arrest thee here, By mandate of the King!" "'What hath he done?' Why, treason's taint Hung o'er his head of old; And he hath failed, though thrice he sailed, To find the mine of gold. 'Twas midnight; but in Plymouth yet Went on the wassail-bout, The early moon was just a-set, And all the stars were out. When at Sir Walter's prison bars A muffled tap was heard; And as his ear was bent to hear, He caught the whispered word:— "Quick, father! catch thy doublet up, Without a moment's stay: Before they drain their latest cup, We must be far away. My mother at the water's brink, Waits, all her fears awake; And if escape should fail—I think— I think her heart will break!" Too much! His bravery shrank to meet The weight of such a blow; And springing instant to his feet, He answered—"I will go!" Across the star-lit stream they steal, Without one uttered word, The waters gurgling at the keel Was all the sound they heard. "Put back the boat! Nay, Sweet, no moan! Thy love is so divine, That thou wouldst rather die than own A craven heart were mine! My purse, good oarsman! Pull thy best, And we may make the shore Before the latest trencher-guest Hath left the Warder's door. Hist! not one other pleading word: But thou, my boy, Carew, Shalt pledge thy vow, even here, and now, That—faithful, tried and true— Thou'lt choose, whatever stress may rise, Whilst thou hast life and breath Before temptation—sacrifice! Before dishonor—death!" The boatman turned, he dared not bide, Nor say Sir Walter nay; And with his oars against the tide He labored up the bay. And when beside the water-stair, With grief no words can tell, They braced themselves at length to bear The wrench of the farewell— The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes, Kept murmuring, under breath: —"Before temptation—sacrifice! Before dishonor—death!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IMITATION OF CHAUCER by ALEXANDER POPE THE MORAL FABLES: THE TALE OF THE TWO MICE by AESOP NIGHTFALL by FLORENCE ASHLEY BELLER THE KING OF NORMANDY by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE EYES OF LOVE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |