Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/290

276 Till last they watched him burning on the sea; Nor how they saw, and wondered it could be, Strange beacons rise before them as they gazed; Nor how their hearts grew light when southward blazed Five stars m blessed shape,—the Cross! whose flame Seemed shining welcome as the wanderers came.

My story presses from this star-born hope To where on young New Holland's western slope These Northern farming folk found homes at last, And all their thankless toil seemed now long past.

Nine fruitful years chased over, and nigh all Of life was sweet. But one dark drop of gall Had come when first they landed, like a sign Of some black woe; and deep in Eibsen's wine Of life it hid, till in the sweetest cup The old man saw its shape come shuddering up.