Death came to him--he called on me the secret to unfold,
But died while he was uttering the little I have told.
"My soul was proud, nor brooked restraint--was proud, and I was young;
And with an eager joyancy I heard his flattering tongue
Proclaim me not of beggars born--yea, as he speaking died,
I--greedy--mad to know the rest--stood cursing by his side.
"I looked upon the homely garb that told my dwelling-place--
It hung upon me heavily--a token of disgrace!
I fled the house--I went to sea--was by a wretch impressed,
The stamp of whose brutality is printed on my breast.
"Like vilest slave he fettered me, my flesh the irons tore--
Scourged, mocked, and worse than buried me upon a lifeless shore,
Where human foot had never trod--upon a barren rock,
Whose caves ne'er echoed to a sound save billows as they broke.
"'Twas midnight; but the morning came. I looked upon the sea,
And a melancholy wilderness its waters were to me;
The heavens were black as yonder cloud that rolls beneath our feet,
While neither land nor living thing my eager eyes could meet.
"I naked sat upon the rock; I trembled--strove to pray;
Thrice did I see a distant sail, and thrice they bore away.
My brain with hunger maddening, as the steed the battle braves,
Headlong I plunged from the bare rock and buffeted the waves.
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