Here walked the pirate chief, and here,
’Mid fitting scenes for a heart so drear,
The past and future before him rise,
And visions as dark as the midnight skies
Surround him. Disgrace and death seem near,
And his brow is troubled-but not with fear.
"I shall soon be numbered with these," he said;
"Beneath these stones with the quiet dead;
But a scaffold will witness my latest sigh,
With coward and traitor must Cleaveland die.
My bones on some lonely beach will perish,
And the name of the Rover none will cherish;
And Minna! Minna!-how wilt thou hear
The fate of the lover thou once held dear?
Oh! with the thought of thy much loved name,
What visions are crossing my tortured brain!
Oh! would to Heaven we ne'er had met,
Since we may not meet again!
But the die is cast, the seal is set,
And the prayer and wish are vain."
He lifts his brows from his clasped hands,
And the form of Minna before him stands.
Pale is her cheek, but the high soul shone
In her firm, unclouded eye;
There is not in her voice one tremulous tone,
Or one wavering woman's sigh.
"Cleaveland," she said, "your freedom to gain, I have hazarded all-friends, safety, fame;
But the love we once cherished, must now be o'er,
more
you
Your mates I have seen-need I tell
I have learned that the pirate chieftain's name
Is a blot on his country's scroll of fame !
Flee from this place ere the dawning light,
Your safety-my father's-all hang on your flight;
The guards are engaged with the revel and wine,
Fold my mantle around thee and safety is thine."
The prisoner wildly clasped her hand,
Cold as the wintry frost,