Childhood's brief years in sin were spent;
The stubborn knee ne'er bent in prayer;
Those lips ne'er spake a Saviour's name,
"Our Father" never lingered there.
Youth's golden season, too, was passed
In wanton sports and misspent time;
And soon he stood on manhood's verge,
A hardened wretch, prepared for crime.
Though so forbidding in his mein,
He woo'd and won a gentle bride,
Who but the closer to him clung,
As darker rolled life's heaving tide.
But though an Angel shar'd the place,
There were for him no joys at home;
He left his mother and his wife,
Reckless o'er earth or sea to roar.
He stood upon a sanded deck,
With blood-red pennon floating free,
And with a daring bloody band,
Rode madly o'er the foaming sea.
The waves that lashed the coal-black hull
Were parted oft their dead to hide;
For ocean's surging, billowy foam,
Drank deeply of life's crimson tide.
He tossed a pointed dagger high,
And wore a sabre by his side;
And many a gen'rous noble one,
Beneath his powerful arm had died.
For bloody deeds of daring high,
He had won a deathless fame;
And o'er that reckless, bloody crew,
Had gained a pirate-captain's name.
And though their coffers teem'd with gold,
Their sordid souls still sighed for more:
And to procure the paltry trash
They scour'd the seas from shore to shore.
But Retribution's hour must come;
Vengeance cannot always sleep;
Justice, with her glittering sword,
Pursues them swiftly o'er the deep.
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