Page:An English Garner Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (Volume 1 1877).pdf/469

Thus driven with every gale of wind,
My weather-beaten bark doth fail:
Still hoping harbour once to find,
Which may these passing perils quail.

But out alas! in vain I hope,
Sith billows proud assault me still:
And skill doth want with seas to cope,
And liquor salt my keel doth fill.

Yet storm doth cease: but lo, at hand,
A ship with warlike wights addressed;
Which seems to be some pirate's band,
With powder and with pellets pressed.

To sink or spoil my bruisèd bark;
Which dangers' dread could not a daunt.
And now the shot the air doth dark;
And Captain on the deck him vaunt.

Then IGNORANCE the Overseer proud,
Cries to SUSPICION, "Spare no shot:"
And ENVY yelleth out aloud,
"Yield to DETRACTION this thy boat."

And as it is now seamen's trade,
When might to cool the foe doth lack:
By vailing foretop, sign I made;
That to their lee, I me did take.

Then gathering wind, to me they make.
And TREASON first on board doth come;
Then follows FRAUD like wily snake,
And swift amongst them takes his room.