Poems (Shore)/The Pirate's Dream

by Louisa Catherine Shore

THE PIRATE'S DREAM

The drowned! the drowned! down in the sea
 How thick they crowd my vessel's way.
The labouring keel moves heavily
 Against the mass of heaving grey.
And everywhere, as on we go,
Starts up a face I seem to know.

But see, all round the horizon's verge
 What crowds of dotted sails it shows—
Hull down, like ghosts they top the surge—
 Saint Mary! how their stature grows,
The hulls increase, the canvas spreads—
Now like tall ships they lift their heads.

Now for the chase—poor fools, they flee—
 Was ever ship so swift as mine?
Before, our thunder shakes the sea,
 Behind us winds a foamy line,
That cuts the mighty main in two,
And with white silver streaks the blue.

How pale they look! along the plank
 See how unwillingly they go!
That captain's face, before he sank,
 How black it was with rage and woe!
That fair-haired lad, who went the last,
What piteous looks on me he cast!

But will those shrieks be never still!
 Will those drowned seamen never rest?
Each billow swells into a hill,
 With a wan visage for 1ts crest.
They call the winds to drive us down—
What's this? She sinks—I drown, I drown!

 July 6, 1844.