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Songs of Sea and Sail

<h2>THE LOST SHIP.</h2> Who saw the ship going down to the sea With her topsails sheeted home, and her spanker Swelling like a course, foam along the lee, And the crew on the tackle of the anchor? Who saw her running off from the land, Wind blowing strong, steering true for the light-ship, But went away wishing he might command Some future day such a tall, such a tight ship? Came she never back again to that port? Long did they wait, watching out at eve and morn. Last was she seen hove-to with canvas short [Pg 100] By an eastward bounder scudding past the Horn. Who saw her sink that midnight in the storm? Where does she lie, rig-tangled and hull-broken? Sails she, perhaps, a ghostly, gliding form, [Pg 101] That silent sea where ships are never spoken? <h2>THE MAIN-SHEET SONG.</h2> Rushing along on a narrow reach, Our rival under the lee, The wind falls foul of the weather leach, And the jib flaps fretfully. The skipper casts a glance along, And handles his wheel to meet— Then sings in the voice of a stormy song, "All hands get on that sheet!" Yo ha! Yo ho! Then give her a spill, With a rattle of blocks abaft. Yo ha! Yo ho! Come down with a will And bring the main-sheet aft. Rolling the foam up over the rail She smokes along and flings A spurt of spray in the curving sail, [Pg 102] And plunges and rolls and springs; For a wild, wet spot is the scuppers' sweep, As we stand to our knees along— It's a foot to make and a foot to keep As we surge to the bullie's song. Yo ha! Yo ho! Then give her a spill With a rattle of blocks abaft. Yo ha! Yo ho! Come down with a will And bring the main-sheet aft. Muscle and mind are a winning pair With a lively plank below, That whether the wind be foul or fair Will pick up her heels and go; For old hemp and hands are shipmates long— There's work whenever they meet— So here's to a pull that's steady and strong, When all hands get on the sheet. Yo ha! Yo ho! Then give her a spill With a rattle of blocks abaft. Yo ha! Yo ho! Come down with a will [Pg 103] And bring the main-sheet aft. <h2>THE LANDFALL</h2> The scent of the soil is strong on the breeze, The gulls are many and shrill, And over the crest of the cresting seas Is floating a rosy hill; And right at the base of this filmy shape, Just clear of the weather shroud, Say, is it ship, or is it a cape, Or a hard spot in the cloud? But hark! from aloft where the seaman swings, And points with an eager hand, Then fore and aft the glad cry rings— [Pg 104] Land, ho, land! <h2>THE CLIPPER.</h2> Her sails are strong and yellow as the sand, Her spars are tall and supple as the pine, And, like the bounty of a generous mine, Sun-touched, her brasses flash on every hand. Her sheer takes beauty from a golden band, Which, sweeping aft, is taught to twist and twine Into a scroll, and badge of quaint design Hang on her quarters. Insolent and grand She drives. Her stem rings loudly as it throws The hissing sapphire into foamy waves, While on her weather bends the copper glows In burnished splendor. Rolling down she laves Her high black sides until the scupper flows, Then pushing out her shapely bow she braves [Pg 105] The next tall sea, and, leaping, onward goes. <h2>THE CONSTITUTION.</h2> Where Glory dwells a hundred years, That spot becomes a shrine, The very soil she trod appears To bear the touch divine; The rusted gun, the shattered blade, Are kept with sacred hand, And Honor bows before the shade That fought to save the land. Then why neglect—why give to rot This victor of the flood? Is she less holy than the spot That drank a hero's blood? Has she no plume to wing a thought— No spark to fire a mind? In names like her's such deeds are wrought [Pg 106] As glorify mankind. And they, whose mighty banner fell Before her lightning's blast, Their victor rides the harbor swell Unshorn of yard and mast; And Glory gilds her like a sun, When, steaming thro' the wave, With dipping flag and rapid gun, The brave salute the brave. Then give ours back, the sail, the spar— Go let her broadside roar! A gun for every glit'ring star Her conquering ensign bore. To show ye have not held in vain The heritage she kept, Oh, let her image grace again [Pg 107] The sea she proudly swept! <h2>THE TARTAR.</h2> The wind from East to South has shifted, The sea's gone down and the clouds are rifted, And broad on the larboard bow are seen A full-rigged ship and a brigantine, With a topsail schooner in between— All bound to London Town. The ship with a golden freight is freighted, The old brigantine with coal is weighted, The schooner's a slippery privateer, With roguish rig and a saucy sheer— Her cargo is guns and hearts of cheer— All bound to London Town. A Frenchman out of old Brest is cruising, [Pg 108] "A chance," says he, "there's no refusing. I will drive that privateer away; The ship and the brig will be my prey, For we don't meet prizes every day— All bound to London Town." Then, crowding sail, on the wind he hurried; The ship and the brig they worried and scurried. The privateer, with her canvas short, Just showed a muzzle at every port, For she'd a crew of the fighting sort— When bound to London Town. The Frenchman tacked the weather gauge after; The privateer cut the sea abaft her; Before she had time to ease a turn They drove a broadside into her stern, For fighting's a trade one's apt to learn— When bound to London Town. Then side by side with their guns they pounded, [Pg 109] Till catching a puff the schooner rounded, And ere they had way to do the like, She laid them aboard with blade and pike, So what could the Brestman do but strike— And go to London Town? The wind from East to the South has shifted, The sea's gone down and the clouds are rifted, And broad on the larboard bow are seen A privateer and a brigantine, With a captured Frenchman in between— [Pg 110] All bound to London Town. <h2>WARNING.</h2> When the old moon hangs to the cloud's gray tail And the stars play in and out; When the East grows red and the West looks pale And the wind goes knocking about; When over the edge of the shapeless coast, Where the horizon bites the cloud, The rack of the rain stalks in like a ghost And a sail blows through its shroud— When the morn is such, of the noon beware! For this calm's a stormy feint: A reef in the sail is better than prayer, [Pg 111] For a snug ship needs no saint. <h2>IN SEPTEMBER.</h2> Oh, the wind, the wind, And the white wake behind; And the land Of yellow sand, Looming like a band Of gold along the rim; And the laughter of the sea, And the sense of mystery, In the dim Stretch of lee, Where the haze In the blaze Of heat seems to meet The sky. Oh, the happy sails that fly To the east, to the south, And the light-house at the mouth Of the bay [Pg 112] With its gray Granite spire Bold against the higher Lift o' green, And a smoky tug-boat's trail Flaunting like a tail Of stormy cloud, And a steamer in between With her paddles whirring round. Oh, a day upon the Sound, With the wind, the wind, Coming out behind, And the feeling of content That is lent To the mind, When the sailing breeze is fair, And your only thought or care Is to keep The sails asleep, And run, Until the sun Drops in the West— [Pg 113] Then rest is best. <h2>THE HOMEWARD BOUNDER'S SONG.</h2> There's many a ship with taller mast, There's many of squarer yard, There's many a one that sails as fast And many that roll as hard; With decks as white, with paint as bright, With hull as staunch and sound; But never ship that steers so light As the ship that's homeward bound! Then give her a spoke, and keep her west, Hurrah, for the world is round! And here's to the ship that steers the best— Hurrah for the homeward bound! There's many a port in distant land And many a splendid sight, Where turret slim and palace grand [Pg 114] Rise skyward tall and white; Where castles rear, and far and near Shines many a golden dome; But never sight that's half so dear As the dear old port at home. Then give her a spoke, and keep her west, Hurrah for a breeze astern! And here's to the port we love the best— The port where the twin-lights burn! There's many a maid of fashion rare In warm and palmy lands, With sea-deep eyes and night-black hair And brown and shapely hands; With lips as red as ever led The heart of a man to roam, But never one we'd take instead Of the girl that waits at home. Then give her a spoke and keep her west, Hurrah for a wake of foam! And here's to the girl we love the best— The girl that we leave at home. [Pg 115] <h2>THE SPELL OF THE SEA.</h2> By the sea I sit and dream Of things that have passed, and now Are fading as fades the gleam Of sail on the ocean's brow, And I hear that song again She sang to the world before Men had crossed her glit'ring plain To die on the further shore. 'Tis a song that, like the wind In a stormy counterpart, Rouses and rolls the restless mind, Till it breaks against the heart— Till it hurls its foam amain On the reefs which gird that lee— And the heart is swept again [Pg 116] By that yearning for the sea. Ah, the sea it sings that song Whenever the moon is full— Whenever the wind is strong, And the tides are bountiful— And it throws a spell o'er one That my heart cannot withstand, So clearly do I foresee [Pg 117] That I shall not die on land. <h2>DAYS OF OAK.</h2> <h3>I.</h3> When ship met ship in olden days, With battle banners flaunting, From stem to stern the cannon's blaze A fiery challenge vaunting— Then man fought man, as brave men should, To keep those walls of native wood. <h3>II.</h3> When broadsides roaring swept the deck, And crews were madly cheering; When sail and spar were shot to wreck, And ships were swiftly nearing; Then men faced death, as brave men should, [Pg 118] Behind their walls of native wood. <h3>III.</h3> When face to face and hand to hand— When boarders' blades were flashing; When bloody pikes made desperate stand, And pistol balls were crashing— Then man fought man, as brave men should, To keep those walls of native wood. <h3>IV.</h3> When valiant arms prevailed at last, The foe for quarter crying, The dying seaman eyed the mast, And cheered his colors flying— For men met death, as brave men should, [Pg 119] Behind their walls of native wood. <h2>LONG, LONG AGO.</h2> As slow our boat the water thro' Is stealing on the breeze, The curving sky a tender blue, A deeper blue the seas; We mark whereon the western edge A band of coast is seen, Where juts the cape and slopes the ledge, A port is shut between. On either side a sudden rise Of black and broken rock Thrusts out an arm that well defies The frantic ocean's shock; And from its point the sunken reef Runs out a mile or more, Where many a ship has come to grief [Pg 120] When breaking breakers roar. Long, long ago, in sudden wrath A storm burst on this land; It caught a fleet within its path— An admiral in command. For three black days they fought the gale, Then one by one they wore— And reft of spar and stripped of sail Went smashing on that shore. Where red and rough the land-slip beach Is touched by tiny waves— Beyond the winter breaker's reach They dug their shallow graves; And with a prayer that half expressed The sorrow that they knew, They laid the admiral there to rest Surrounded by his crew. But, ah, to-day is sweet—and lo, The ocean is at rest, Save for a breathing low and slow [Pg 121] Of wind across its breast. Far out beyond the cloudy forms Are anchored on the edge— It is no time to talk of storms, [Pg 122] Of wrecks upon the ledge. <h2>WIND HAPPY SHIPS.</h2> Wind happy ships, that rise and make Across the gaping bay, To dance like bubbles in the wake Of westward flying day. So quick they rise, so swift they flow, So bright their topsails gleam, They seem to come, and come and go Like joy-thoughts in a dream. Wind happy ships, in constant flight Across the sloping main, That thro' the dark and thro' the light Sail on and on again. A port ye have, I know not where— 'Tis far beyond my world— But pray some day may find you there [Pg 123] With all your canvas furled. <h2>THE QUEST.</h2> My carrack rides the wave below, The castle glooms above— "Now who will sail the sea with me, To find the man I love?" Three pilots tall sit in the hall, And drink my father's ale— "Now one of three must go with me, This ship of mine to sail." Deep, deep they quaffed, and quaffing, Struck the board with tankard chine— "Now in what port, to East or West, Dwells this true love of thine?" "I seek no port to East or West, But down beyond the rim, By following far the falling star, [Pg 124] My ship will come to him. "He rules a land of surfless shores, Of deep enchanted bays; Where time is twice as long again, And half the nights are days; "Where dreams are dreamt with open eyes; Where love forbears to change; And all that's new is old and sweet, And all that's old is strange." Loud, loud they laughed, and laughing, Blew the foam from bearded lips As blows the gale the whiter foam From the bows of plunging ships. Then up and spake the youngest one— And laughter seamed his cheek— "There is no port beyond the rim, Such as the port you seek. "The sea is wide, and isles may hide Unknown to pilot's eye; But this, methink, lies on the brink, [Pg 125] When glows the ev'ning sky: "A vapory shore that fades before The swift-advancing stars; Where rides the moon on blue lagoon Embayed by golden bars." He ceased; and the boisterous laughter Rose rumbling thro' the hall. It swept like a gale among the mail, And the banners shook like shivered sail, As it rolled from wall to wall. Then up and spake the second one: "I fear not wind nor wave; But this soft clime of twice-long time Must lie beyond the grave. "No seaman's skill, no pilot's art, May find that port, I ween, For God alone doth read the chart Of that dark sea between. "And though I serve my Lord and King With head, and heart, and hand, I will not make, for woman's sake, [Pg 126] A voyage to find that land!" They laughed, but they laughed less lightly, As though they felt their breath, And cheered the jest to free the breast From ugly thoughts of death. The maiden stepp'd three paces back, But nothing did she say— She turned her eyes upon the west, She signed the cross upon her breast, Then bent her knee to pray. Dear heart, but it was beautiful To hear that maiden's prayer! So strong of faith, so rich with love— It seem'd as though the sun above Slipp'd down to drink its share. And the saint on the window painted Looked down on her bended head, As a father who lingers watching Soft breathed above the dead— Looked down from the glowing casement, [Pg 127] From the sun-lit crimson glass— Then followed a murmur of whispered prayer, And a silence descended unaware, Like the silence of the mass. Then up she rose like one refreshed, Who bendeth o'er a stream And drinketh deep, and in her eyes There shone the light that mocks the wise And maketh doubt a dream. Then up she rose as one refreshed And spake but once again: "If you trust your heart above your art Our search will not be vain." Then stood and spake the oldest one: "My eyes are true and keen, And I have sailed for four-score years Wherever ship hath been. "From East to West, from North to South, With every wind that blows, I know no land beyond the rim [Pg 128] Where boundless bays repose; "Where sleeps the sea along the strand Of sky-like slopes that wear So rich a light the very night Forgets to linger there. "It seems to me, if such there be, No man could pass it by; And I will make, for thy dear sake, This voyage before I die. "And if I fail that port to hail, God fend my soul. Oh, pray! The task I take for love's sweet sake May wash some sins away." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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