Ay! and his deep buried treasures! Where went the gold dust from the coast of Guinea?—the gems from Madagascar?—where the dollars and doubloons pirated from the Spanish galleons?—the broken plate and crucifixes from the shores of Panama?—and where the good yellow gold, stamped with the visage of his most gracious majesty?—where! where, but on the haunted borders of this very Sound. Why, the very school-boys, playing in the woods upon its shores, know when the earth doth hollow sound beneath their feet, that Kidd’s treasure’s buried there. Do they disturb it? No—not they—they know too well the fierce and restless spirit that guards the iron pot. Didst ever hear the brave old ballad—“_As he sail’d, as he sail’d?_” It’s a glorious old ballad—it’s a true old ballad—and a time-honoured old ballad—it gives his veritable history. It has been printed in black letter, and sung time out of mind. It has been chanted by the old tars in sultry calms of the tropics, and the greasy whalers have kept time to it over their trying kettles on the smooth Pacific. It has been sung amid the icebergs of Greenland, and heard on the coast of New Holland; the spicy breezes of Ceylon have borne it among the sleeping tigers in their jungles, and the Hottentots have pulled tighter their breech-cloths as they have listened to its tones. The Chinese, and the Turks, and the Dutchmen, and the Danes, and every thing human within the smell of salt water, have heard it,—ay! and that too in the rich manly tones of the English and American sailors. Ho! Scip!—wake from out thy corner, and give us the old ballad. Shades of red-capped bucaneers!—fierce negro slavers!—spirits of the gallant men who fought the British on her shores!—desperate old Kidd in person!—we conjure you—we conjure you—arise and hover around us, whilst we chaunt the lay. Ho! Scipio!—the old ballad, as it stood smoke-blacked, and grimed upon thy cabin’s walls—ay! that is it—and in tones which chimed well in unison with the dreary storm and howling blast without. “YE LAMENTABLE BALLAD, AND YE TRUE HISTORIE OF CAPTAINE ROBERT KIDD, WHO WAS HANGED IN CHAINS AT EXECUTION DOCK, FOR PIRACY AND MURDER ON YE HIGH SEAS.” [Sidenote: He calleth upon the captains:] You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, hear our cries, You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, You captains brave and bold, tho’ you seem uncontroll’d, Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls, lose your souls, Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls. [Sidenote: He stateth his name and acknowledgeth his wickedness:] My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, My name was Robert Kidd, God’s laws I did forbid, And so wickedly I did, when I sail’d. [Sidenote: He beareth witness to the good counsel of his parents:]