_Sailor._ In the noontide of existence, With swarthy brow and rugged limb, Man bravely struggles for subsistence For those in sin begot by him; Rejoices in all frailties—sorrows, They draw him nearer to his God. _Stranger._ The hymn of early childhood still remembered. _Sailor._ A bending in the chain to form the circle. He led me to my home—and such a home! It seemed as if the fairies had been there Making their May-day—wife and daughter happy. Then, from an arbor overgrown with flowers, He placed a prattling child upon my knee, And called him by my name. He laughed outright— My daughter blushed. They now were man and wife. I danced—then blubbered like a very child. Tears are at times a truer sign of joy Than smiles and laughter. _Stranger._ ’Twas a boy, you said? _Sailor._ A boy—his bud of Paradise, he called him. Such flowers, too, often yield most bitter fruit In man’s Gethsemane. _Stranger._ Thank God! not always. _Sailor._ We dwelt together for a few brief months. He then proposed to try the sea again, To place the beings whom we fondly loved Beyond the cold calamities of earth. Three years we sailed—we prospered, and returned With means to make those happy whom we loved. On wearied pinions, like the dove of peace When land was found, he flew to seek the ark Where our best feelings day and night reposed, While struggling with the ocean. God! O God! No ark was there—no resting-place for him! Even Ararat was covered with the deluge. _Stranger._ I understand you not. _Sailor._ His wife was false. _Stranger._ Impossible! _Sailor._ But true. You tremble sir. Her father curst the memory of his child; Her mother withered, and soon died heart-broken. You seem disturbed. _Stranger._ ’Tis past. What did your son? _Sailor._ He slew the slimy reptile that crawled over him; Put his hard heel upon her glossy front, Trampled her out in cold blood. _Stranger._ God of heaven! _Sailor._ And he did right. _Stranger._ Your daughter! _Sailor._ He did right. She who betrays the honor of her husband, Regardless of her parents, self, and children, Should cease to live, though all unfit to die. Better to rot in earth, than crawl through life, Offending all things with her foul pollution. I love my God; knowledge increases love. I ask forgiveness of him, as Christ prayed. I am his child, and yet I curse my child. Her sin hath made the best of prayers from my lips An invocation of a lasting curse On her old father’s head a mockery! Forgive as I forgive—a lie to God! Her sin hath robbed me of my prayer of childhood— The prayer I gathered from my mother’s lips— The prayer that opens the celestial portals— The prayer _He_ taught when _He_ appeared as mortal. _Stranger._ His destiny.