When thus the Chief-Shipmate, these pranks give
Who would not laugh, were you to pay the scoreEv'n now, when ocean raves beneath the blast, 525 "Twere droll to see you to the surges cast,
Though there no friendly fish would rise to save
The falling jester as he dash'd the wave-
Come, help below these wretches from the shore,
Who hate salt water, and their lot deplore.
His shipmate hears, and in sarcastic vein,
With brow severe bespeaks the trembling train :
Down to your births, it ill suits you to brave
On open deck the rude, uncourtly wave-
Speed ye-if aught be left to you of sense,
Ere some o'erwhelming billow sweep you hence-
And hands attend the lifted hatch to close-
These simple hinds are formidable foes-
Should, while they thread the ladder to the hold,
Another torrent o'er the deck be roll'd,
Our delug'd bark would shoot the deep below,
Fleet as an arrow from the twanging bow.
The train obey their wailings they suspend,
The sailors lift the hatch, and down they bend.
With pensive step the dungeon dark they seek, 545
The hatches close-again is heard their shrick :
So the poor ghosts, when the sky burns around, Howl out their sorrows from the tomb profound.
Firm at the helm, with circumspect survey,
The chief with guiding hand directs our way,
While our heav'd bark scatters around her prow
The surges dazzling like loose flakes of snow.
Eyeing the swell, a sigh that ofttimes stole
Reluctant, spoke the anguish of his soul-
And as the wheel revolves beneath his hand,
Thus he accosts his weather-beaten band:
Columbians, shipmates, names for ever dear,
What heav'n inflicts 'tis mortal's part to bear-
But in the tempest's darkest, fellest hour,
There still presides an over-ruling power,
To whom the seaman looks his bark to guide,
And calm with mercy's voice the raging tide.
Then bear your fate-dismiss ignoble grief,
Rouse-clear the wreck to give the ship relief--
The massy spars strewn o'er the deck demand
A whole crew's labour, not a single hand.
Assembled at their toil the seamen ply
The axe and lever where the ruins lie-
While the hoarse boatswain urges on the train,
And bellows like the bursting hurricane.
Mix'd shouts resound-and o'er the steepy side
Thunder the spars, and strew the flashing tide.
Now round our craz'd barque such sea-billows spread,
As rival in their height the mast's tall head-
Loud and more loud they rage-and-as they roll
Their bursting deluge-harrow up the soul:
Scarce can our shuddering hull the shock sustain,
The fell assault, th' invasion of the main.
Thus driving half-wreck'd on the midnight deep-
My fears-my terrors banish'd balmy sleep,
And on the deck, to yearning dread a prey,
A father's breast invok'd returning day.
When oh! as near the naval chief I stood
Guiding his ship in silence o'er the flood,
New horrors hover'd on the night's stern brow- 585
New horrors met the eye of moody woe-
Sudden, terrific, labouring through the spray,
A vast three-decker intercepts our way—
Some admiral's ship, whose sides in middle sky
Frown on the tempest, and its wrath defy.
Full horrible around the mist she throws
With her huge prow-and kindling as she goes,
Bears on our wretched bark: our groans arise,
And mingled clamours echo to the skies.
I saw the chief survey her on the deep,
I saw the curdled blood desert his cheek--
Seamen, he cried, attend your leader's call!
Haste to the booms-the tackles overhaul.
Should our frail bark the giant ship assail,
Our boats-our boats-they only can avail;
Unless they float, one common fate we have,
Our hull our coffin, the wide sea our grave.
Shield us, ye guardian host! to our dismay,
Silent the hulk advances on her way-
No hum is heard on deck-th' attentive ear
Finds only awful, death-like stillness there.
In such a night to sleep, the senses need
Mandragora, or drowsy poppy seed-
The pois'nous bowl, with deadly juices fill'd,
The fatal draught from Egypt's drugs distill'd: 610
In such a night with no composure blest,
Surely the crew have rav'd themselves to rest.
Lights! seamen, lights!-to fire the murky air-
A torch uprais'd!—to shew her how we bear-
If her vast hull, her decks, her ramparts own
Instincts to thinking, acting beings known.
Hard up the helm! she comes but to annoy,
Fix'd in the horrid purpose to destroy.
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,* She hurls destruction on our wretched bark- 620 Stem on she comes! death spreads before our view— The boats! the boats! save ye, my gallant crew!
He said the Warrior full before our eyes-
Her keel on sea, her topmasts in the skies,
Athwart us shot-threat'ning to cleave in twain 625
Our hull-and give the timbers to the main.
So silent was her deck, and she so near,
That her helm's motion we distinct could hear-
But not a whisper'd word-or being's tread-
Her's the deep mansion of the mute or dead.
'Twas then I saw the Mother wildly start,
And snatch her sleeping infant to her heart—
Kiss her babe's lips, those lips of coral hue,
And bathe with tears her eyes of azure blue.
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