XII.

The boat drew nigh, well armed, and firm the crew To act whatever Duty bade them do; Careless of danger, as the onward wind Is of the leaves it strews, nor looks behind. And, yet, perhaps, they rather wished to go Against a nation's than a native foe, And felt that this poor victim of self-will, Briton no more, had once been Britain's still. They hailed him to surrender--no reply; Their arms were poised, and glittered in the sky. 290 They hailed again--no answer; yet once more They offered quarter louder than before. The echoes only, from the rock's rebound, Took their last farewell of the dying sound. Then flashed the flint, and blazed the volleying flame, And the smoke rose between them and their aim, While the rock rattled with the bullets' knell, Which pealed in vain, and flattened as they fell; Then flew the only answer to be given By those who had lost all hope in earth or heaven. 300 After the first fierce peal as they pulled nigher, They heard the voice of Christian shout, "Now, fire!" And ere the word upon the echo died, Two fell; the rest assailed the rock's rough side, And, furious at the madness of their foes, Disdained all further efforts, save to close. But steep the crag, and all without a path, Each step opposed a bastion to their wrath, While, placed 'midst clefts the least accessible, Which Christian's eye was trained to mark full well, 310 The three maintained a strife which must not yield, In spots where eagles might have chosen to build. Their every shot told; while the assailant fell, Dashed on the shingles like the limpet shell; But still enough survived, and mounted still, Scattering their numbers here and there, until Surrounded and commanded, though not nigh Enough for seizure, near enough to die, The desperate trio held aloof their fate But by a thread, like sharks who have gorged the bait; 320 Yet to the very last they battled well, And not a groan informed their foes _who_ fell. Christian died last--twice wounded; and once more Mercy was offered when they saw his gore; Too late for life, but not too late to die,[ft] With, though a hostile hand, to close his eye. A limb was broken, and he drooped along The crag, as doth a falcon reft of young.[fu] The sound revived him, or appeared to wake Some passion which a weakly gesture spake: 330 He beckoned to the foremost, who drew nigh, But, as they neared, he reared his weapon high-- His last ball had been aimed, but from his breast He tore the topmost button from his vest,[408][fv] Down the tube dashed it--levelled--fired, and smiled As his foe fell; then, like a serpent, coiled His wounded, weary form, to where the steep Looked desperate as himself along the deep; Cast one glance back, and clenched his hand, and shook His last rage 'gainst the earth which he forsook; 340 Then plunged: the rock below received like glass His body crushed into one gory mass, With scarce a shred to tell of human form, Or fragment for the sea-bird or the worm; A fair-haired scalp, besmeared with blood and weeds, Yet reeked, the remnant of himself and deeds; Some splinters of his weapons (to the last, As long as hand could hold, he held them fast) Yet glittered, but at distance--hurled away To rust beneath the dew and dashing spray. 350 The rest was nothing--save a life mis-spent, And soul--but who shall answer where it went? 'Tis ours to bear, not judge the dead; and they Who doom to Hell, themselves are on the way, Unless these bullies of eternal pains Are pardoned their bad hearts for their worse brains.