Five Excellent New Songs (c. 1780, "The Cambridge Tender")/The Tempest

The TEMPEST.

Ceaſe, rude Boreas bluſt’ring railer,
liſt ye Land-men all to me;
Meſs-mates, hear a brother-ſailor,
ſing the dangers of the ſea.
From bounding billows, firſt in motion,
where the diſtant whirlwind riſe,
To the tempeſt troubled Ocean,
when the ſeas contend with ſkies.

Hark! the Boatſwain hoarſely bawling,
by top-ſail ſheets & hallyards ſtand,
Down top-gallants, quick be bawling,
down your ſtay-ſails, hand boys, hand.
How it freſhens, ſet the braces,
the lee top-ſail ſheets let go;
Luff, boys, luff, don’t make wray faces,
up your top-ſails nimbly clew.

Now all you on down-beds ſporting,
fondly lock’d in beauty’s arms,
Freſh enjoyment, wanting courting,
ſafe from all but Love’s alarms.
Around us roars the tempeſt louder,
think what fears our minds enthral:
Harder yet, it ſtill blows harder,
now again the Boatſwain’s call,

The top-ſail-yards point to the wind boys,
ſee all clear to reef each courſe;
Let the fore-ſheet go, don’t mind boys,
tho’ the weather ſhould be worſe;
Fore and aft the ſpritſail-yard get,
reef the mizen, ſee all clear,
Hands up, each preventure brace ſet,
man the fore-yard; chear, lads, cheer.

Now the dreadful thunder’s roaring,
peals on peals contending claſh,
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
in our eyes blue light’ning flaſh;
One wide water all around us,
all above but one black ſky!
Different deaths at once ſurround us,
hark! what means yon dreadful cry?

The foremaſt’s gone, cries ev’ry tongue out,
o’er the lee, twelve foot ’bove deck!
A leak beneath the cheſtree’s ſprung out,
call all hands to clear the wreck,
Quick the lanniards cut to pieces,
come my hearts be ſtout and bold,
Plumb the well, the leak increaſes,
four feet water’s in the hold.

While o’er the ſhip the wild waves beating,
we for wives and children mourn,
Alas! from them there’s no retreating,
alas! to them there’s no return!

Still the leak is gaining on us,
both chain pumps are choak’d below,
Heav’n have mercy here upon us,
only that can ſave us now.

On the lee-beam is the land, boys,
let the guns o’er board be thrown,
To the pumps come ev’ry hand, boys,
ſee! her mizen-maſt is gone.
The leak we’ve ſound, it cannot pour faſt,
we’ve lightned her a foot or more,
Then up and rig a jury fore-maſt,
ſhe’s right, ſhe’s right, boys, we’re off ſhore.

Now, once more, on joys we’re thinking,
ſince kind Fortune ſav’d our lives,
Come, the cann, boys, let’s be drinking,
to our ſweet-hearts and our wives,
Fill it up, about ſhip wheel it:
cloſe to the lips the bumper join,
Where’s the tempeſt now? who feels it?
none;—our danger’s drown’d in wine.