There sat he in his pretty boat, Like an angel from the sky, Regarding us in our great ship, With wonder in his eye. The little oar slid from his hand; His sweet lips were apart; Within my soul I felt his joy; His wonder in my heart. And as we tokened him to come, His little boat he neared, And smiled at all our friendly words, Nor seemed the least afeared. “Come hither a-board!” the captain said! And without fear of ill, He sprang into the lordly ship, With frank and free good will. He was no son of the merman; No syren full of guile; But a creature like the cherubim, From some unknown-of isle. And strange to tell, his pleasant speech Was English, every word; And yet such English, sweet and pure, As his I never heard. There were three, he said, who dwelt with him Within a tamarind-grove; His parents and his sister young,-- A family of love. His father, he said, had made his boat From out a large sea-shell; “And what a wondrous tale,” said he, “I shall this evening tell!” His robes, he said, his mother had wove From roots of an Indian-tree; And he laughed at the clothes the seamen wore, With the merriest mockery. When the little child had stayed with us, May-be an hour or so, He smiled farewell to all on board, And said that he would go. “For I must be back again,” said he, “For me they all will wait; I must be back again,” quoth he, “Or ever the day be late!” “He shall not go!” the captain said; “Haul up his boat and oar! The pretty boy shall sail with us To the famous English shore! “Thou shalt with me, my pretty boy; I’ll find thee a new mother;-- I’ve children three at home, and thou To them shalt be a brother!” “Nay, nay, I shall go back!” he said; “For thee I do not know;-- I must be back again,” he cried, “Before the sun be low!” Then sprang unto the vessel’s side, And made as he would go. The captain was a strong, stern man; None liked him overwell; And to a seaman standing near, Said he, with voice and look austere, “Haul up yon cockle-shell! And you, my boy, content you, In this good ship to dwell!” As one who gladly would believe Some awful threat a joke, So heard the child, with half a smile, The words the captain spoke. But when he saw them seize his boat, And put his oar away, The smile was gone, and o’er his face Quick passed a pale dismay. And then a passion seized his frame, As if he were possessed; He stamped his little feet in rage, And smote upon his breast, ’Twas a wicked deed as e’er was done-- I longed to set him free; And the impotence of his great grief Was a grievous sight to me.