Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile,

And the red glare of Skiddaw roused the burghers of

Carlisle.

XLII

Lord Macaulay

I

THE TAR FOR ALL WEATHERS

SAIL'D from the Downs in the Nancy,

My jib how she smack'd through the breeze!

She's a vessel as tight to my fancy

As ever sail'd on the salt seas.
So adieu to the white cliffs of Britain,
Our girls and our dear native shore !
For if some hard rock we should split on,
We shall never see them any more.
But sailors were born for all weathers,
Great guns let it blow, high or low,
Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

When we entered the Straits of Gibraltar
I verily thought she'd have sunk,
For the wind began so for to alter,

She yaw'd just as tho' she was drunk.
The squall tore the mainsail to shivers,

Helm a-weather, the hoarse boatswain cries
Brace the foresail athwart, see she quivers,
As through the rough tempest she flies.
But sailors were born for all weathers,
Great guns let it blow, high or low,

;

Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

The storm came on thicker and faster,
As black just as pitch was the sky,
When truly a doleful disaster

Befell three poor sailors and I.

Ben Buntline, Sam Shroud, and Dick Handsail,
By a blast that came furious and hard,
Just while we were furling the mainsail,
Were every soul swept from the yard.
But sailors were born for all weathers,
Great guns let it blow, high or low,
Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried peccavi,
As for I, at the risk of my neck,

While they sank down in peace to old Davy,
Caught a rope, and so landed on deck.

Well, what would you have? We were stranded,
And out of a fine jolly crew

Of three hundred that sail'd, never landed

But I, and I think, twenty-two.

But sailors were born for all weathers,
Great guns let it blow, high or low,

Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

C. Dibdin

A

XLIII

THE FISHERMAN

PERILOUS life, and sad as life may be,
Hath the lone fisher, on the lonely sea,

O'er the wild waters labouring far from home,

For some bleak pittance e'er compelled to roam : Few hearts to cheer him through his dangerous life, And none to aid him in the stormy strife: Companion of the sea and silent air,

The lonely fisher thus must ever fare :

Without the comfort, hope,

with scarce a friend,

He looks through life and only sees its end!
B. Cornwall

Only the captain speaks to him, -
Stand up, stand up, young man,
And steer the ship to haven,

As none beside thee can.

Thou sayst to me, 'Stand, stand up';
I say to thee, take hold,
Lift me a little from the deck,

My hands and feet are cold.

And let my head, I pray thee,

With handkerchiefs be bound:

There, take my love's gold handkerchief, And tie it tightly round.

Now bring the chart, the doleful chart;
See where these mountains meet
The clouds are thick around their head,
The mists around their feet:

Cast anchor here; 't is deep and safe
Within the rocky cleft;

The little anchor on the right,

The great one on the left.

And now to thee, O captain,
Most earnestly I pray,
That they may never bury me
In church or cloister gray;
But on the windy sea-beach,
At the ending of the land,
All on the surfy sea-beach,
Deep down into the sand.

For there will come the sailors,
Their voices I shall hear,

And at casting of the anchor
The yo-ho loud and clear;
And at hauling of the anchor
The yo-ho and the cheer, —
Farewell, my love, for to thy bay
I never more may steer.

W. Allingham

XLV

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS

IT What sail'd the wintry sea;

T was the schooner Hesperus,

And the skipper had taken his little daughter,

To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,

That ope in the month of May.

The skipper he stood beside the helm,

His pipe was in his mouth,

And he watch'd how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now west, now south.

Then up and spake an old sailor,
Had sail'd the Spanish Main,
'I pray thee put into yonder port,
For I fear the hurricane.

'Last night the moon had a golden ring,

And to-night no moon we see !'