Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1826.pdf/41

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fair ship cut the billows, And her path lay white behind, And dreamily amid her sails Scarce moved the sleeping wind.

The sailors sang their gentlest songs, Whose words were home and love; Waveless the wide sea spread beneath— Placid the heaven above.

But as they sung, each voice turn'd low, Albeit they knew not why; For quiet was the waveless sea, And cloudless was the sky.

But the clear air was cold as clear; 'Twas pain to draw the breath; And the silence and the chill around Were e'en like those of death.

Colder and colder grew the air, Spell-bound seem'd the waves to be; And ere night fell, they knew they were lock'd    In the arms of that icy sea.

Stiff lay the sail, chain-like the ropes, And snow past o'er the main; Each thought but none spoke of distant home They should never see again.

Each look'd upon his comrade's face, Pale as funereal stone; Yet none could touch the other's hand, For none could feel his own.