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Red glowed the western waters, The setting sun was there, Scattering alike on wave and cloud His fiery mesh of hair.
Amidst a group in blindness, A solitary eye Gazed, from the burdened slaver's deck, Into that burning sky.
"A storm," spoke out the gazer, "Is gathering and at hand; Curse on 't, I'd give my other eye For one firm rood of land." And then he laughed, but only His echoed laugh replied, For the blinded and the suffering Alone were at his side.
Night settled on the waters, And on a stormy heaven, While fiercely on that lone ship's track The thunder-gust was driven.
"A sail!--thank God, a sail!" And as the helmsman spoke, Up through the stormy murmur A shout of gladness broke.
Down came the stranger vessel, Unheeding on her way, So near that on the slaver's deck Fell off her driven spray.
"Ho! for the love of mercy, We're perishing and blind!" A wail of utter agony Came back upon the wind.
"Help us! for we are stricken With blindness every one; Ten days we've floated fearfully, Unnoting star or sun.
Our ship 's the slaver Leon,-- We've but a score on board; Our slaves are all gone over,-- Help, for the love of God!" On livid brows of agony The broad red lightning shone; But the roar of wind and thunder Stifled the answering groan; Wailed from the broken waters A last despairing cry, As, kindling in the stormy' light, The stranger ship went by.
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