Poems (Cook)/The Fairy of the Sea

by Eliza Cook

THE FAIRY OF THE SEA.

There's a frigate on the waters, fit for battle, storm, or sun;
She dances like a life-boat, though she carries flag and gun.
I'm rich and blest while I can call that gallant craft my own;
I'm king of her, and Jove himself may keep his crown and throne.
She'll stem the billows mountain high, or skim the moonlit spray;
She'll take a blow and face a foe, like lion turn'd at bay;
Whate'er may try, she'll stand the test; the brave, the staunch, the free:
She bears a name of stainless fame, the "Fairy of the Sea."

The gale is up, she feels the breath, the petrel is behind;
She travels through the white foam like an arrow on the wind.
Softly, softly,—hold her in—let her slacken in her pace;
She'll do the pilot's bidding with a greyhound's gentle grace.
The rocks are round her—what of that? she turns them like a swan;
The boiling breakers roar, but she is safely creeping on.
Hurrah! hurrah! she's clear again! More canvas! helm a-lee!
Away she bounds, like deer from hounds, the "Fairy of the Sea!"

I've met with life's rough-weather squalls, and run on shoals ashore;
All pass'd me under scudding-sails, and friends were friends no more:
But when the storm-fiend did its worst, and blanch'd the firmest crew,
No timber yawn'd, no cordage broke; my bark, my bark was true.
We've lived together, closely bound, too long to lightly part;
I love her like a living thing; she's anchor'd in my heart:
But Death must come, and come he may; right welcome he shall be,
So that I sleep ten fathoms deep in the "Fairy of the Sea!"