I shall be back, before to where I am

Another ship could reach. Now your stipend--"

Quickly Breuck interposed. "When you once more

Tread on the stones which pave our streets.--Good night!

To-morrow I will be, at stroke of noon,

At the great wharf." Then hurrying, in spite

Of cake and wine the old man pressed upon

Him ere he went, he took his leave and shut the door.


'Twas noon in Amsterdam, the day was clear,

And sunshine tipped the pointed roofs with gold.

The brown canals ran liquid bronze, for here

The sun sank deep into the waters cold.

And every clock and belfry in the town

Hammered, and struck, and rang. Such peals of bells,

To shake the sunny morning into life,

And to proclaim the middle, and the crown,

Of this most sparkling daytime! The crowd swells,

Laughing and pushing toward the quays in friendly strife.


The "Horn of Fortune" sails away to-day.

At highest tide she lets her anchor go,

And starts for China. Saucy popinjay!

Giddy in freshest paint she curtseys low,

And beckons to her boats to let her start.

Blue is the ocean, with a flashing breeze.

The shining waves are quick to take her part.

They push and spatter her. Her sails are loose,

Her tackles hanging, waiting men to seize

And haul them taut, with chanty-singing, as they choose.


At the great wharf's edge Mynheer Kurler stands,

And by his side, his daughter, young Christine.

Max Breuck is there, his hat held in his hands,

Bowing before them both. The brigantine

Bounces impatient at the long delay,

Curvets and jumps, a cable's length from shore.

A heavy galliot unloads on the walls

Round, yellow cheeses, like gold cannon balls

Stacked on the stones in pyramids. Once more

Kurler has kissed Christine, and now he is away.


Christine stood rigid like a frozen stone,

Her hands wrung pale in effort at control.

Max moved aside and let her be alone,

For grief exacts each penny of its toll.

The dancing boat tossed on the glinting sea.

A sun-path swallowed it in flaming light,

Then, shrunk a cockleshell, it came again

Upon the other side. Now on the lee

It took the "Horn of Fortune". Straining sight

Could see it hauled aboard, men pulling on the crane.


Then up above the eager brigantine,

Along her slender masts, the sails took flight,

Were sheeted home, and ropes were coiled. The shine

Of the wet anchor, when its heavy weight

Rose splashing to the deck. These things they saw,

Christine and Max, upon the crowded quay.

They saw the sails grow white, then blue in shade,

The ship had turned, caught in a windy flaw

She glided imperceptibly away,

Drew farther off and in the bright sky seemed to fade.

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