THE YOUNG MARINERS.
When many a large and stately ship lay rolling like a log,
With more of water in her hold than that which served for grog,–
"What ho!" we'd cry, while skimming by, "look here, ye boasting band!
Just see what boys with water toys and silken sails can stand!"
Old Nep might lash his dolphins on with fierce and splashing wrath,
And summon all the myrmidons of death about his path;
The Triton trumpeter might sound his conch-horn long and loud,
Till scaly monsters woke and toss'd the billows to the cloud.
With more of water in her hold than that which served for grog,–
"What ho!" we'd cry, while skimming by, "look here, ye boasting band!
Just see what boys with water toys and silken sails can stand!"
Old Nep might lash his dolphins on with fierce and splashing wrath,
And summon all the myrmidons of death about his path;
The Triton trumpeter might sound his conch-horn long and loud,
Till scaly monsters woke and toss'd the billows to the cloud.
The Nereids might scream their glee, bluff Boreas howl and rave;
But still the little Petrel was as saucy as the wave.
By day or night, in shade or light, a fitting mate was she
To ramble with her sponsor-bird, and live on any sea.
She tempted with a witching spell, she lured us to forget
A sister's fear, a mother's tear, a father's chiding threat:
Away we'd dash through foam and flash, and take the main as soon
Amid the scowling tempest as beneath the summer moon.
But still the little Petrel was as saucy as the wave.
By day or night, in shade or light, a fitting mate was she
To ramble with her sponsor-bird, and live on any sea.
She tempted with a witching spell, she lured us to forget
A sister's fear, a mother's tear, a father's chiding threat:
Away we'd dash through foam and flash, and take the main as soon
Amid the scowling tempest as beneath the summer moon.
Some thirty years of toil and moil have done their work since then;
And changed us three young mariners to staid and thoughtful men:
But when by lucky chance we meet, we ne'er forget to note
The perils that we dared with such a "wee thing" of a boat.
Oh were it so that time could give some chosen moments back,
Full well we know the sunniest that ever lit life's track;
We'd ask the days beside the coast, of freedom, health, and joy—
The ocean for our play-place, and the Petrel for our toy.
And changed us three young mariners to staid and thoughtful men:
But when by lucky chance we meet, we ne'er forget to note
The perils that we dared with such a "wee thing" of a boat.
Oh were it so that time could give some chosen moments back,
Full well we know the sunniest that ever lit life's track;
We'd ask the days beside the coast, of freedom, health, and joy—
The ocean for our play-place, and the Petrel for our toy.
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