Page:Improvisatrice.pdf/33

Rh

Of misery:—they just could see The distant shore of Italy, As the dim moon through vapours shone— A few short rays, her light was gone. O’er head a sullen scream was heard, As sought the land a white sea-bird, Her pale wings like a meteor streaming. Upon the waves a light is gleaming— Ill-omened brightness, sent by Death To light the night-black depths beneath. The vessel rolled amid the surge; The winds howled round it, like a dirge Sung by some savage race. Then came The rush of thunder and of flame: It showed two forms upon the deck,— One clasped around the other’s neck,