Dungeon Rock; or, the pirate's cave, at LynnEmerson, N. S. (Nannette Snow)
History
Dungeon Rock; or, the pirate's cave, at Lynn
Emerson, N. S. (Nannette Snow)
Pirates -- Massachusetts -- Lynn -- History
The medium that Madame Lamphier saw four years ago, at the age of
twelve, has been employed more or less, for five or six weeks past, in
writing this little work, which we now send on its way, without a fear
that its mission will ever be unaccomplished. The time for all things
to be done is ordered; and when we have said all that can be known
about such a place as Dungeon Rock, there still remains one question
unanswered--one doubt unremoved. Time alone can verify what hundreds
have told, either by impression, clairvoyance, or entrancement, that
there still remains a cave there, and that the present laborer, Mr.
Hiram Marble, otherwise known as the Excavator, shall be the one to
discover it.
LINES COMMUNICATED TO A CIRCLE AT DUNGEON ROCK, FEBRUARY 22d, 1856.
Far away from the voice of the rolling sea
A noble banner is waving free,
With its motto of blue on a pure white ground,
And a single stripe of scarlet around.
America’s tri-color, red, white, and blue,
Flutters softly there all the long day through.
On the high, firm rock, ’bove the grassy strand,
With its heavy brace, does the flag-staff stand;
While not far down on the rough hill’s side
Is the small, rude cot, where the workers abide.
We know, ere the cold winter flitted o’er,
That want peered in through the open door;
But hearts were willing to boldly strive,
And hope and faith kept the soul alive;
So, spite of famine’s half-looked-for shock,
The work still prospered in Dungeon Rock.
Strong hands kept picking the stone chips out,
And forcing the long, circuitous route;
Strong hearts were waiting, for well they knew
That the summer would bring them enough to do.
With curious eyes, and a curious name,
Or open purses and open fame.
But the stranger’s scorn and the stranger’s love
Were never valued true friends above.
Years pass like the hours of a summer day,
And leave no memento to mark their stay.
We have told of the faith in the Rock alive
In the year eighteen hundred and fifty-five.
Let us turn time’s current, and backward go,
And see what new wonders her book will show,
By skipping two centuries, just to derive
The knowledge of sixteen fifty-five.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account