He seized the vessel, plunged the knife
Within the seamen's breast:
And by a cruel waste of life,
His evil gains possessed.
He then would make the nearest isle.
And go at night by stealth,
To hide within the earth awhile
His last ill-gotten wealth.
Thus, many a shining wedge of gold
This modern Achan hid;
And many a frightful tale was told
About the pirate, Kidd.
But Justice does not slumber long;
If slow, she's ever sure.
There's none too artful, quick, or strong
For her to make secure!
To Boston, with a brazen face,
The pirate boldly went,
Where he was seized; and in disgrace
And chains, to England sent.
The captain and his crew were there,
A solemn, fearful sight;
Resigning life high up in air,
E'en at the gibbet's height!
For many a year their bodies hung
Along the river side;
As beacons, showing old and young
How they had lived and died.
The wealth they hid was never found.
Though often sought of men.
'Tis where they placed it in the ground,
Till they should come again!
The earth has seemed by Heaven constrained.
The treasures to withhold
That price of blood has none obtained,
Or used the pirate's gold!
=The Dying Storm=.
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