About our chosen islands Or secret shoals between, When, weary from far voyage, We gathered to careen. There burned our breaming-fagots Where lay our loosened harness? Where turned our naked feet? Whose tavern 'mid the palm-trees? What quenchings of what heat? Oh fountain in the desert! Oh cistern in the waste! Oh bread we ate in secret! The youth new-taught of longing, Desire not more their quittance I dreamed to wait my pleasure Till, first in face of Fortune, High Admiral of Spain. Then walked no wind 'neath Heaven Nor ever one betrayed. They wrought a deeper treason (Led seas that served my needs!) They sold Diego Valdez To bondage of great deeds. The tempest flung me seaward, Yet 'spite my tyrant triumphs My dream held I before me But, crowned by Fleet and People, To rob me of my hope! No prayer of mine shall move him, The Lord of Sixty Pennants There walks no wind 'neath Heaven The old careening riot And the clamorous, crowded shore- The cistern in the waste, The bread we ate in secret, The cup we spilled in haste. Now call I to my Captains To me the straiter prison, To me the heavier chain To me Diego Valdez, High Admiral of Spain! THE SECOND VOYAGE 1903 WE'VE sent our little Cupids all ashore — They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold; Our sails of silk and purple go to store, And we've cut away our mast of beaten gold (Foul weather!) Oh 't is hemp and singing pine for to stand against the brine, But Love he is our master as of old! The sea has shorn our galleries away, The salt has soiled our gilding past remede; Our paint is flaked and blistered by the spray, Our sides are half a fathom furred in weed (Foul weather!) And the doves of Venus fled and the petrels came instead, But Love he was our master at our need! 'Was Youth would keep no vigil at the bow, 'Was Pleasure at the helm too drunk to steer We've shipped three able quartermasters now, Men call them Custom, Reverence, and Fear (Foul weather!) They are old and scarred and plain, but we'll run no risk again From any Port o' Paphos mutineer! We seek no more the tempest for delight, We skirt no more the indraught and the shoal We ask no more of any day or night Than to come with least adventure to our goal (Foul weather!) What we find we needs must brook, but we do not go to look, Nor tempt the Lord our God that saved us whole! Yet, caring so, not overmuch we care To brace and trim for every foolish blast, If the squall be pleased to sweep us unaware, He may bellow off to leeward like the last (Foul weather!) We will blame it on the deep (for the watch must have their sleep), And Love can come and wake us when 't is past. Oh launch them down with music from the beach, New prows that seek the old Hesperides! (Foul weather!) Though we know the voyage is vain, yet we see our path again In the saffroned bridesails scenting all the seas! (Foul weather!) THE LINER SHE'S A LADY 1894 THE Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor ’eeds Plyin' up an' down, Jenny, 'angin' round the Yard, The Liner she's a lady by the paint upon 'er face, The Liner she's a lady, and 'er route is cut an' dried; |