_Sailor._ All joy hath bitterness. Stretched on the deck the sailor-boy reposed, And lived in dreams his infant years again. The seamen, ’mid the shrouds aloft reclining, Told o’er their tales of wreck and lingering death, And in the drowsy interval was heard The rugged cadence of the helmsman’s song. “A pleasant sail!” But pleasure has strange wings, She comes a zephyr and departs a whirlwind. _Stranger._ Kisses the flower to blooming, then destroys. _Sailor._ Sudden the helmsman’s drowsy song was hushed. A fearful cry arose—“The ship’s on fire!” The seamen from aloft sent back the cry; The sailor boy shook off his happy dream, And woke to horror. All was wild dismay! Half sleeping—half awake, the crew came forth; Grim death, enveloped in his robes of flame, Marched on and laughed. There was no human power To put aside his footstep. On he moved In awful majesty; whate’er he touched, True to its origin, returned to dust, And Nature’s master-work, man’s godlike frame, Became as worthless as the spars and sails, Each made its pile of ashes—nothing more. _Stranger._ Ashes to ashes all, and dust to dust, The self-same mandate both on earth and sea. _Sailor._ The flames attained dominion. Tyrant-like, They ruled and raged. Upon the shrouds they seized, Kissing destruction—laughing as they kissed; While the broad glare they spread upon the deep Changed the sea’s nature. Water soon became A lake of living fire. “A pleasant sail!” _Stranger._ You weep. Go on. _Sailor._ O that I then had perished! I seized the boy and leaped into the waves. Upon a fallen spar we safely rode Until the ship went down. “A pleasant sail!” Her knell one shriek of mortal agony. We had no heart to weep for their sad fate— No heart to pray for one less terrible. I gathered fragments from the floating wreck, And made a raft, where two immortal souls Struggled with time to check eternity With frail appliance. For three days we suffered; And then a passing ship preserved our lives For greater suffering. _Stranger._ The boy—his fate? _Sailor._ His parents dead—the lad became my charge. I then was married to a worthy woman— God’s kindest gift. We had an only child— My wife brought up the children as if twins, And at a proper age he sailed with me. He grew to manhood—noble—cheerful—kind As those who love the artless lips of children; A very babe was he in his affections— A very demon in his bitter passions. The eagle and the dove oft make their nest— The tiger and the ermin find a lair In the same bosom. _Stranger._ What became of him? _Sailor._ My wife grew sick. He loved her as his mother; He loved my daughter too. I sailed, and left him To till my little ground and smooth their pathway. After three years I came to port again. Crossing my fields, which now poured forth their increase, I saw a man resting upon his plough, Singing right lustily. _Stranger._ What did he sing?