The Seaside and the Fireside/Sir Humphrey Gilbert
Sir Humphrey Gilbert.
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death;Wild and fast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath.
His lordly ships of ice Glistened in the sun;On each side, like pennons wide, Flashing crystal streamlets run.
His sails of white sea-mist Dripped with silver rain;But where he passed there were cast Leaden shadows o'er the main.
Eastward from Campobello Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;Three days or more seaward he bore, Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
Alas! the land-wind failed, And ice-cold grew the night;And nevermore, on sea or shore, Should Sir Humphrey see the light.
He sat upon the deck, The Book was in his hand;“ Do not fear! Heaven is as near,” He said, “ by water as by land!”
In the first watch of the night, Without a signal's sound,Out of the sea, mysteriously, The fleet of Death rose all around.
The moon and the evening star Were hanging in the shrouds;Every mast, as it passed, Seemed to rake the passing clouds.
They grappled with their prize, At midnight black and cold!As of a rock was the shock; Heavily the ground-swell rolled.
Southward through day and dark, They drift in close embrace,With mist and rain, to the Spanish Main; Yet there seems no change of place.
Southward, forever southward, They drift through dark and day;And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream Sinking, vanish all away.