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195

THE VISION.

When bleeding, dying, on the shore
He lay, while hellish pirates bore
His Gerda to their bark accursed —*
These sights, these sounds of woe now burst
Upon her senses with a power,
A weight of horror, scarcely less
Than in the first o'erwhelming hour
That sealed her doom of wretchedness.
Again the sea's deep moan she hears,
Unmeaning words are in her ears,
And now a fellow-captive's wail
Is mingled with the sobbing gale.

Yet are these memories more dim ;
Soon as the crushing blow was dealt,
Over her soul strange stupor came,
The broken heart but little felt.
That voyage of months — it fills no space
On the broad tablet of her thought —

  * See Appendix X.