Page:The Statues in the Block and Other Poems (1881).djvu/110

104 He thinks of the shadow that o'er them fell From the mast with its whip-like quiver; He has seen it tipped with its crimson lash When the mutiny-flood had risen And swept like a sea with an awful swash Through the squares and the vaulted prison. His thoughts are afar with the woful day, With the ranged dead men and the dying, And slowly he treads till they pass away

Then a pause, and a start, and a scuffling sound, And a glance beneath, at a battle-ground, Where the lines are drawn, and the Chains are found Their armed guards defying! A hush of death— and the Sentry stands By the mast, with the halyards tight in his hands, And the Mutiny Flag is flying!

Woe to the weak, to the mutineers! The bolt of their death is driven;