'From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, Without rudder or needle we steer; Above, below, our bark dies the sea-fowl and the shark, As we fly by the last Buccaneer. To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde A loud crash and a louder roar; And to-morrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep The corpses and wreck to the shore.' The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride And Severn's towering mast securely now hies fast, From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal fort, The seaman goes forth without fear; For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight Of the flag of the last Buccaneer. LXXXVII A JACOBITE'S EPITAPH To my true king I offered free from stain For him I languished in a foreign clime, Oh thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, LXXXVIII THE SONG OF THE WESTERN MEN A GOOD Sword and a trusty hand! King James's men shall understand What Cornish lads can do. And have they fixed the where and when? And shall Trelawny die? Here's twenty thousand Cornish men Will know the reason why! Out spake their captain brave and bold, 'If London Tower were Michael's hold, We'll cross the Tamar, land to land, The Severn is no stay, With "one and all," and hand in hand, And when we come to London Wall, A pleasant sight to view, Come forth! come forth! ye cowards all, Here's men as good as you. Trelawny he's in keep and hold, Trelawny he may die; But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold Will know the reason why!' Hawker. LXXXIX THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP THE MODEL 'BUILD me straight, O worthy Master! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!' The merchant's word Delighted the Master heard; For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every Art. A quiet smile played round his lips, And with a voice that was full of glee, And first with nicest skill and art, Perfect and finished in every part, A little model the Master wrought, Which should be to the larger plan What the child is to the man, Its counterpart in miniature; That with a hand more swift and sure The greater labour might be brought To answer to his inward thought. And as he laboured, his mind ran o'er The various ships that were built of yore, And above them all, and strangest of all, Towered the Great Harry, crank and tall, Whose picture was hanging on the wall, With bows and stern raised high in air, And balconies hanging here and there, And signal lanterns and flags afloat, And eight round towers, like those that frown From some old castle, looking down Upon the drawbridge and the moat. And he said with a smile, 'Our ship, I wis, It was of another form, indeed; Broad in the beam, that the stress of the bla ́, THE BUILDERS In the ship-yard stood the Master, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! Covering many a rood of ground, Timber of chestnut, and elm, and oak, And the banks of the roaring Roanoke! To note how many wheels of toil One thought, one word, can set in motion! But every climate, every soil, And help to build the wooden wall! |