"This cross, O dying man, Was round my daughter's neck, when in the deep She perished from me, on that fatal night The 'Sphinx' was burnt, forth sailing from the Clyde. Her dying mother round the infant's neck This holy symbol, with her blessing, hung. Friendless at home, I took my only child, Bound to the Western World, where we had friends. Scarce out of port, up flamed our ship on fire, With crowding terrors through the umbered night. O! what a shout of joy, when through the gloom That walled us round within our glaring vault, Spectral and large, we saw the ships of help. Our boats were lowered; the first, o'ercrowded, swamped; Down to the second, as it lurched away, I flung my child: the monstrous waves went by With backs like blood: the sudden-shifting boat Is off with one, another has my babe. I sprung to save her--all the rest is drear, Grisly confusion, till I found me laid, On some far island, in a fisher's hut. Me, as they homeward scudded past the fire, Those lonely farmers of the deep picked up, Floating away, and rubbed to vital heat; And through the fever-gulf that had me next, With simple love they brought my weary life. The shores and islands round, for lingering news Of people saved from off that burning wreck, O! how I haunted then; but of my child No man had heard. Hopeless, and naked poor, To war I rushed. This cot received me next; And here, I trust, my mortal chapter ends. But say, O say! how came you by this cross?" The dying man upon his arm had risen, Ere ceased the Soldier's tale: "She is thy child, Take her," he said; "and may she be to thee, As she to me has been, a daughter true, A child of good, a blessing from on high!" So saying, back he fell. Around his neck Her arms of love the sobbing damsel threw, And kissed him many a time. And then she rose, And flung herself upon the Soldier's breast-- For he's her father too. And many tears, Silent, the old man rained upon her neck.