At noon she saw from the high cave door, A party of men and torches four Creep slowly in through the tangled green, Where the pirate robbers had last been seen. Three times did the lady fair look down; Three sunsets she saw on that little town; Then she rested her fair, pale face alone, By the cool, bright spring in the hollowed stone; And that night, when the pirates came home from the dell, They buried the form of proud Arabel. Then years passed on and another bride Blessed the cavern home on the high hill-side; But the pirates were traced to their home by the sea, And, of all the seven, there escaped but three. One of these fled to his rocky home, And dared not away from the cave to roam. But the merry Cathrin, the pirates bride, Mourned out her young life, that year, and died. And the sturdy Veale, who could ever bear The darkest storm of both sea and air, Became a coward, and dared not brave The suspicious look of a lowly grave. So he carefully laid that form of clay On a shelving rock in the cave away; And he flung the pure folds of her own white dress O’er her marble brow, in that dark recess. Then he wandered on, and lived and grew, Like the rest of Lynn people, tied to a shoe; For he dared not betray the gold, so bright, Lest he should be murdered, some silent night, But, at last, the great earth felt the earthquake’s shock, And Veale was immured in the prison rock. Then time fled on, and the silent life Of nature alone by the rock was rife; Till the baby city had a regular blow, Which shattered the stones to their base so low, And rattled them down till they closed the mouth Which the earthquake had left toward the sunny south The good effects which this blowing made Were to use the powder, and help the trade. Then again was the solitude deep and still, By the pirate glen, on Dungeon Hill. But curious minds spied the legends out, And a new scene of labor was brought about. A mesmeric lady, of wondrous fame, And a band of brothers, with as wide a name, Became interested, and tried for a while The rocks of the Dungeons high roof to unpile. But, though they grew faint, we believing ones say That Jesse the talented, Jesse the gay, The brother that shone, ere he passed from sight, Like a trammeled star of unbounded might, This scene of his labor has not forgot, But is lingering still round the lonely spot, Where the brothers shall some time again unite, And sing for the dungeon with all their might The good they did is, that the heavy bole Of the flag-staff rests low in the Hutchinson hole. Then, again, the excitement of Dungeon Rock Forgot to be the general every-day talk; And the forest was valued, like other land, For the visible worth on its rocky strand.