He felt it—deeply felt—and stood,
As if the tale had frozen his blood. 248
A signal, deep and dread as those
The storm-fiend at his rising blows. 254
As mute they pass’d before the flame
To light their torches as they pass’d. 256
They come—that plunge into the water
Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 263
“Now, Freedom’s God! I come to Thee.” 269
Where still she fix’d her dying gaze,—
And, gazing, sunk into the wave. 274
“Farewell—farewell to thee, ARABY’S daughter!” 277