Help'd him the Philadelphia's deck to gain,
When she lay moor'd with swivels and a chain,
Beneath a bloody battery, whose shot
Before they told a furnace made red hot.
Mounting her side, our chief conspicuous shone,
And soon the valour of his arm made known;
For, at the gangway, as he sprung on board,
There, hand to hand, he met with clashing sword
The turban'd Rais-who sunk beneath his frown,
While the boat's coxswain haul'd the colours down.
Bill was not idle-with this sworded-hand
He slew a Turk, the second in command.
Alla! il Alla! was his wrathful cry,
As his bright sabre glitter'd in the eye;
But Bill luff'd up, and, as he gave a yaw,
With his half pike belay'd his uncouth jaw.
A golden cross that on his breast he bore,
I took a fancy to, and long time wore;
Till at New York for debt in dungeon pent,
In want of cash-Bill's bosom bauble went.
There is in royal state a secret charm
That can effrontery subdue-disarm-
While the tar spoke, his panic-blinking eye
Betray'd his awe of Neptune's majesty.
And he, by nature impudently bold,
Could not the king with steady glance behold.
A silence all the naval guests possess'd,
When the sea's sovereign thus the chief address'd: As bold a fellow this as ever spoke,
To kill a Turk, and tell it as a joke.
Had fortune view'd his birth with kinder brow,
And in his cradle he been called Monro
Instead of standing now with hat in hand, 2890
This stately ship might be at his command;
But born Bill Breeze, 'tis his from first to last,
To swab her deck, and serve before the mast.
Come, bid the boatswain, that hoarse growling dog,
Touch his bright call, and tune the note to grog
Let him assume his music-breathing face,
And pipe all hands on deck to splice main brace.
Ill suits it, skipper,† mortal man to bear
The brow still bent, and give up life to care.
Enjoy the moment-see how steals the day,
On pinions light, with secret lapse away;
How many more bestow'd no mortal knows,
Then snatch the joy the present hour allows.
The captain spoke-Pipes and his tarry train Advance on deck, three mastiffs of the main; 2905
* James Monroe, President of the United States.
+ A familiar name for captain.
The leader portly, with his rough breast bare,
The mates bold ruffians with a foremast air.
Now with each feature working from the throat,
They strain in unison a stunning note;
Between each linked bout a pause they make, 2910
And the joy'd crew to extasy awake:
"All hands to splice main-brace up boys, repair "With your huge cans, and the chief's bounty share!" Then to the steward's tub the seamen fly, Thirst on the lip, and laughter in the eye, Crowding they press the cup to take in hand, And halting Yarrow mingles with the band.
His noon-tide station now the sun had pass'd,
And our tall ship a deeper shadow cast,
As, doubly-pictur'd on the glassy deep,
The vessel o'er its image seem'd to sleep,
When Neptune, with an air of high command,
(His huge, rough trident in his brandish'd hand)
With voice that shook the ship from stem to stern,
Bade his head-groom prepare for his return: 2925
Glaucus, my steeds! the sun is sinking low,
And we ere night have many leagues to go.
Glaucus, reclining on the gangway rail,
Stood 'midst the children of the helm and sail;
Fair to the waist he seem'd, but all below
His fishy scales a strange discordance show;
With forky fins to plough the foamy brine,
A tail enormous lengthen'd out his spine.
In the sire's hand the massy grog-howl flam'd,
And as a toast the chief's good ship he nam'd, 2935
But, ere he drank, vociferously spoke,
While his loud voice a louder hiccup broke:
What hoa there Glaucus! sound your crooked shell,
And to their posts my sea-born train compel.
Constrain❜d again my mandate to renew,
I'll make you run the gauntlet through the crew,
Switching your tail the gamesome tars among,
Like a mad bullock by a hornet stung.
Rein, rein my steeds! my Amphitrite afar,
In pensive mood, awaits her Neptune's car;
No doubt, she marvels at my long delay,
And asks what charm can keep her lord away.
Then, with a meaning glance thrown on the band,
The triton growl'd, The charm is in your hand!
And in revenge for Neptune's pride and scorn, 2250
But feebly swell'd in mockery his horn.
Monarchs love mirth-not always does the crown
Look on the heads of vassals frowning down-
His testy groom the sea's great sovereign ey'd,
And smiling through his regal state reply'd:
It ever was thy food to flout and jeer,
And play the buffoon with thy honour'd peer-
Your aid, good Glaucus, my melodious guide-.
Your hand to help me down the frigate's side.
Now holding by the red-rope* Neptune stood, 2960 In act to seek his chariot on the flood,
While his proud coursers toss'd their manes on high,
And flakes of splendour lighten'd to the sky.
With arms presented, martial in their mien,
A youthful troop of rifle-men were seen,
Subtle of glance-while Tom Pipes pour'd around
A linked bout of shrill, fantastic sound.
Then with the look that stills the raging main,
The king repeats his kind adieu again:
Captain, farewell! this moisture in my eyes- 2970
"Tis womanish, and takes me by surprize-
It soon will pass-my brave Columbian heart,
I never sorrow'd so from man to part-
When a distinguished personage leaves a ship of war, ropes covered with red baize are shipped to conduct him down the sidefadder, and, as he descends, the boatswain solemnly pipes, and the marines present their arms. If the quality of the departing guest be eminently great, the crew man the yards, and salute him with one vast shout.
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