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Intently listening, he can hear

O'er tempest rise distinct and clear,
Full fraught with deep heartrending fear,
The wailing of the crew.

Cry they, "Oh! God of mercy save
Thy servants from an ocean grave,"
As high upon a crested wave

The tall ship heaves in view.

Dunraven, smiling, leaves the tower,
And, with impatience, waits the hour
When welcome night shall come.
Nor thought of pity giveth he
To hapless souls in agony,

Who, conquered by th' almighty sea,
Sail on, sail on to doom.

Soon night's obscuring mantle falls
Around the castle's gloomy walls,
Wraps sea and land;

Unto him Lord Dunraven calls
His hellish band.

They gather in the castle hall,
Twelve wreckers, muscular and tall,
Red torches fresco roof and wall
With varying shade and light.
The brimming wine-cup round doth fly,
Gleams murder in each ruffian's eye,
Death holds high court to-night.
Among them Lord Dunraven walks,
In turn, with each retainer talks,
And bandies merry jest;

Declares, with oath, how they and he
Shall, so they choose it, wealthier be,
Ere he retire to rest.

"Fill flasks and flagons once again,
Drink! drink success to wind and rain,
Damp death to yonder crew.
Make ready now the signal light,
Come, prime your courage, for to-night,
My men, we've work to do."

They issue forth: a desperate band,
And seaward, o'er the shingly strand,
With caution take their way,
'Gainst human life to lift the hand,
To stain with blood the golden sand
Of fair Dunraven Bay.

Enfolded fast by friendly dark,

O'er treeless waste and wind-swept park,
One stealthily doth tread,

To where, commanding sea and land,
An ancient ruined tower doth stand
High on Dunraven Head.

The howling tempest drowneth speech,
The long waves thunder on the beach
With deafening crash.

The sea is one vast foaming reach
From Sker to Nash.*

Like lightning, from the dizzy height,
Shoots forth a clear and brilliant light
The heaving billows o'er.
It riseth high; it falleth low;
The treacherous waters catch the glow,
Lo! all is dark once more.

Emboldened by the welcome sight,
The skipper hails the fateful light,
"Thank heaven! help is near."
Then, as it fadeth from his view,
He cheereth on the frightened crew,
And biddeth each take heart anew,
Wavering 'twixt hope and fear.

But hope is valiant, doubt is drear;
So valiant hope doth vanquish fear,
And conquer doleful doubt.
A helpful bark is surely near,
The skipper bids the helmsman steer
Where erst the light shone out.

With flapping canvas, broken mast,
The schooner shoreward flieth fast,
Bereft of spar and boom.
The waving water doth conspire
With sable night, and gleaming fire,
To cozen her to doom.

The sailors raise a ringing cheer
As, once again, the light shines clear,
Their hearts with hope elate.
The hell-born trap each man deceives,
'Tis darkened suddenly, and leaves
The vessel to her fate.

Two well known headlands on the Glamorganshire coast. Sker is the scene of R. D. Blackmore's novel, The Maid of Sker.

Oh! brief suspense; her voyage o'er,
She strikes the cruel rock-bound shore
With fierce appalling shocks;
Her timbers shatter hopelessly,
Above her leaps the angry sea,
And crew and cargo ruthlessly

Are dashed upon the rocks.

The winds have wrought their wayward

And roused to wrathful deeds of ill
The dread, revengeful deep.
Like children now, whose passion o'er,
All heedless of the ocean's roar,
They sobbing sink to sleep.

With grasping hand and greedy reach,
Dunraven's lord doth pace the beach,
And strain his blood-shot eyes.
Coarse jest, ill-timed, his crew doth greet
As every wave throws at his feet
Rich bales of merchandise.

Some demon rules his soul to-night,
He shouts his orders left and right,
"Look ye to casks and bales,
Those useless sailors, let them lie,
And, so it please them, howl and die,
For 'dead men tell no tales."

With speed he wanders up and down,
Peers through the dark with eager frown,
His voice with shouting hoarse.

An angrier wave than all before,
Doth near him cast upon the shore,

A ghastly mangled corse.

Oh! sorry, sorry is the sight,

The bonny face death drawn and white, The blood-stained love-locks, golden bright, All mingled with the sand.

Revealed by the lantern's light

A costly gem, with facets bright,

Whose sharp rays pierce the sullen night,

Gleams from the dead man's hand.


But heaven-born pity plays small part
In Lord Dunraven's crime-stained heart,
Scant welcome findeth there,

By greed of gain obscured; his sight,
To human pain oblivious quite,
Seeks but the jewel rare.

As low he stoops to seize the prize,
And meets his victim's death-dimmed


His feelings who shall tell?

"My God! my God!" he frantic calls,
As prone upon the corpse he falls,
With loud, heart-piercing yell.

"Tis, oh the irony of fate
Remorse, repentance comes too late,
The ghastly deed is done.
With wild and agonizing cries
Dunraven's lord doth recognise
His loved, his only son.






This eminent Welshman was born at Tynton, Glamorganshire, South Wales, in 1723. He was educated at Talgarth, in his native county, whence he moved to a Presbyterian academy in London. His principal works are: "Review of the Principal Questions and Difficulties in Morals;" " On Providence ;" "On Prayer;""Reasons for expecting that Virtuous Men will meet after Death in a State of Happiness;" "On the Importance of Christianity, the Nature of Historical Evidence, and Miracles ;" "Observations on Reversionary Payments, the Method of Calculating the Values of Assurance on Lives, and on the National Debt;" "Observations on the Nature of Civil Liberty, on Principles of Government, and the Justice and Policy of the War with America;" "A Free Discussion on the Doctrine of Materialism and Philosophical Necessity," &c. Dr. Price was the author of numerous other works, as also of many papers in the Transactions of the Royal Society, of which he was a Fellow. Out of respect for his extraordinary merits, the University of Glasgow in 1769 conferred on him the degree of D.D. and for his works on civil liberty and the principles of government the Corporation of London voted him its thanks and a gold box. His character as a financier was so highly esteemed by Pitt, that on the termination of the war that Minister consulted him respecting the best mode of liquidating the National Debt, the result being, it is said, the creation of the sinking fund. Dr. Price died in 1791.

The work to which I shall refer, and from which I shall make a few extracts, is his "Observations on the Nature of Civil Liberty, the Principles of Government, and the Justice and Policy of the War with America;" of which the fifth edition was printed in London in March, 1876, and had the enormous circulation of sixty thousand, it is said. Dr. Price was a personal friend of Franklin, and it is evident from his own

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