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 THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA; 
 
 ti 
 
 OR, 
 
 A CRUISE TO THE WESTWARD. 
 
 IN FOUR PARTS. 
 
 BY A MAIN-TOP-MAN. 
 
 Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth ; 
 And such the hard condition of our birth, 
 No force can then resist, no flight can save ; 
 All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. 
 
 POFE'S ILIAD, BOOK VT. 
 
 CHISWICK : 
 
 iFrom tf&e Pregg of €+ fflfyittingfam j 
 
 COLLEGE HOUSE. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY \V. H. REID, CHARING CROSS J 
 
 J. ARLISS, NEWGATE STREET ', AND 
 
 SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1819. 
 
T^iJr* 
 
 yi 
 
 ill 
 

 TO 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 LORD AMELIUS BEAUCLERK, 
 
 REAR ADMIRAL OF THE RED, 
 
 KNIGHT COMMANDER OF THE BATH, ETC. 
 
 THE FOLLOWING 
 
 Wotrn 
 
 IS HUMBLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 SYDENHAM, 
 
 December 20, 1818. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Part I. The Introduction 1 
 
 II. The Tidings 25 
 
 III. The Cruise 57 
 
 IV. The Return 89 
 
 Notes to Part 1 107 
 
 Part II 108 
 
 ■ Part III 119 
 
 Part IV 122 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Conscious of his very slender acquirements in 
 literature, it is with much diffidence that the 
 author of the following Poem exposes to the 
 ordeal of the public judgment a work which, he 
 is aware, must necessarily be deficient in the 
 beauties that adorn the compositions of more 
 highly-gifted and cultivated writers. Nor can he 
 venture his frail bark on so dangerous a coast, 
 subject to the hard gales of censure, without first 
 offering an apology for his temerity. Having 
 gained his experience in naval affairs, by serving 
 an apprenticeship to the sea, and having, since 
 then, had little opportunity and less time for 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 improvement in other respects, he presumes no 
 further than to entertain a wish that his humble 
 lines may not be unacceptable to some of the 
 officers and seamen of his Majesty's navy, and 
 especially to his old shipmates, who served with 
 him in the Minerva. If such should be the case, 
 the object of his ambition, in presenting them 
 with " The Fate of Myra," will be fully accom- 
 plished. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE INTRODUCTION 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Myra, daughter of Herbert, a fanner of Hooe, after rising in the 
 morning repairs to her favourite amusements in the garden. She 
 is there visited by her friend Eliza, who, overhearing her singing 
 in a bower, becomes acquainted with her attachment for a naval 
 officer, and discovering herself rallies her on that subject. Myra 
 justifies that attachment while she makes a confession of it to her 
 friend, and informs Eliza of her approaching nuptials. They then 
 ascend the height which overlooks Plymouth Sound ; from whence 
 a vessel is descried entering the harbour. Myra, anxious for the 
 arrival of her lover, makes a previously concerted signal, but is 
 disappointed, and, after taking leave of her friend, returns to her 
 amusements in the garden. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE INTRODUCTION, 
 
 Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 
 She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to Hearen. 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 Harp of Arion! thou that o'er the main 
 Didst pour the tale of death in sweetest strain 1 , 
 Long on a pine's far bending branch reclined, 
 Mute hast thou hung, or swept but by the wind ; 
 Now o'er thv chords mv trembling hand I fling, 
 Love and the deep the themes that claim thy string ! 
 Not mine, O harp ! thy fated master's skill, 
 With all thy harmonies the soul to thrill ; 
 B 2 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Yet may I wake some notes to Nature dear, 
 
 And steal from Pity's eyes the tender tear. 10 
 
 Then if each comrade own the picture true, 
 
 If maidens weep when Myra's fate they view, 
 
 No prouder recompense, O harp ! I crave 
 
 For me, rude minstrel of the stormy wave ! 
 
 The sun was travelling up his eastern height, 
 And Plymouth gave his beams reflected bright; 
 His presence to their morning business drew 
 The labourers on the pleasant farm of Hooe, 
 Full on that farmer's mansion shone his flame, 
 And through fair Myra's chamber window came. 20 
 And ne'er his penetrating beam surveyed 
 Stretch'd on her couch asleep a lovelier maid. 
 No look that marks the child of revel there, 
 A sweet simplicity adorns the fair ; 
 Health in her charming bloom expressive glows. 
 While on her lips appears the summer rose. 
 The purest innocence, the loveliest grace, 
 Blend in the beauties of her angel face ; 
 And Phoebus gazes till her opening eyes 
 Dart forth a glance which all his beams outvies, 30 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Then springing forth her snowy limbs unfold 
 The matchless beauties of the Rhodian mould. 
 
 Away, ye vulgar sons of lustful shame, 
 Nor whisper here the thought 'tis base to name! 
 Her guiltless bosom pants not thus for you, 
 She loves a man of honour, brave and true; 
 And ere her form's array M with modest care 
 For him she offers up her morning prayer; 
 For him to heaven her supplications flow, 
 And oft her bosom feels the rising glow ; 40 
 
 Such glow as once in Eden's garden reign'd, 
 Ere taint of sin the mortal bosom stain'd : 
 From her escapes no speculating smile, 
 Coquettish lure, or glance of wanton guile; 
 Smote by her searching and expressive eye 
 The flippant coxcomb often learn'd to fly; 
 His venal jest, and self-conceited stare, 
 Could find no smile of approbation there. 
 The youth, where modest sense, and honour too, 
 Burns in a heart reciprocally true, 50 
 
 Alone could form for her exalted soul 
 The willing links of exquisite control. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Not long the maiden at her toilet stay'd, 
 Nor long her morning task below delay'd, 
 But at her father's table first presides, 
 Then like a leveret to the garden glides. 
 That garden was not as some farmers' are, 
 O'ergrown with weeds and destitute of care, 
 But stored with every useful plant and flower, 
 That spreads its vernal beauties to the shower. 60 
 There, from the house, a beauteous lawn extends, 
 And hemlock Spruce, and weeping Willow bends, 
 Where waves pellucid to the eye unfold 
 A nimble race, with scales of living gold. 
 The Pine and silver Fir erect in air, 
 The Cork-tree and the scarlet Oak were there, 
 And Cedars of Mount Lebanon on high 
 Spread their majestic branches in the sky ; 
 While the Magnolia more humble gave 
 Its ample foliage pendent o'er the wave : 70 
 
 The mirror wave a fair resemblance drew, 
 With soft reflection lovely to the view. 
 Yonder some Laurel and iVrbutus tail, 
 In green luxuriance hide the garden wall, 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Along whose southern aspect spreads the Vine, 
 Which Autumn loads with crystal drops of wine ; 
 The Brignion*, Apricot, and Peach-tree there 
 Produce their yellow nectar sweet and fair ; 
 While from beneath a dark-green, leafy shield, 
 The purple Figs their luscious flavour yield. 80 
 
 A green-house, too, erected by its side, 
 Displays the beauties of exotic pride. 
 The Illicium there and Fuchsia blows, 
 And white Camellias outvie the Rose; 
 Verbenas too impart their grateful smell, 
 Campanula displays her radiant bell ; 
 While near the earth, with sweet and modest grace, 
 Primula shows the beauties of her face ; 
 The golden Orange there its branches spread, 
 To give the bending treasures of its head ; 90 
 
 The downy Musk-plant and Geranium yields 
 The mingled fragrance of Italian fields : 
 These all in varied sweetness flourish there, 
 To beauty nursed by Myra's constant care. 
 
 * A favourite Nectarine. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Nor less the borders clad in colours gay 
 The painted treasures of the Spring display. 
 Lobelia-fulgens gives the crimson hue, 
 The Gentian her inimitable blue, 
 The Mignonette, a favourite of the sun, 
 And Lilies, which his burning honours shun ; 100 
 The Tulip, Crocus, and Anemone^ 
 With all the treasures that entice the bee, 
 In sweet and variegated order grew, 
 Protected by a hedge of Box and Yew. 
 There her fair hand would rear the tender stalk, 
 And tie its drooping blossoms from the walk. 
 These all her pleasing leisure hours employ, 
 And sweet amusement crowns a life of joy. 
 Such were the lovely tenants of the soil, 
 And such the garden where two gardeners toil: 110 
 This ground and that enclosed employ their care, 
 Where mellow fruit and vegetables are; 
 Her father o'er these swains himself presides, 
 And all the labour of the farm he guides. 
 One hundred acres there amuse his hours, 
 Where Autumn all her golden treasures showers. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Prolific orchards too, where Apples share 
 Their station with the softer melting Pear ; 
 These in a wooden press they squeeze amain, 
 And sparkling cider in the barrel strain; 120 
 
 Then foams the sweetly strong fermenting store, 
 The merry joy of England's western shore. 
 
 To him the varied labours of the year 
 As light, successive, welcome tasks appear ; 
 For, train'd from youth, amid this rural scene, 
 His happy days pass on in calms serene. 
 No boisterous anger marks his sage command, 
 He rules his peasants with a parent's hand ; 
 As round the road and distant field he goes, 
 Where'er he moves respect and duty glows. 130 
 His ample fortune all the needy share, 
 And poor relations thrive beneath his care. 
 His only treasure was the lovely maid, 
 His every future hope on her was stay'd. 
 Oh, wherefore, then, should such a father feel 
 His firm affections rack'd upon the wheel ? 
 For bitter dregs for him to drink are given — 
 And yonder flies th' unerring shaft of heaven. 
 
10 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Hark ! from the house the yard-dog's bark we hear, 
 A note that makes the brave approach with fear. 140 
 The rattling gate awakes his surly voice, 
 There stands a damsel trembling at the noise; 
 In haste she seems for some one to inquire, 
 While at the door she speaks with Myra's sire. 
 Now, hither, light and gay, her footsteps bend — 
 It is Eliza seeks her bosom friend. 
 No rustic traits in her fine form appear, 
 She seems almost a Myra marching here. 
 Fair as the radiance of Aurora's ray 
 She trod the grassy lawn's dew-spangled way ; 150 
 Now for the greenhouse sped the nimble maid, 
 She pass'd the wide Athenian Poplar's shade ; 
 Loudly, and oft on Myra's name she calls, 
 And Myra echoes round the garden walls. 
 But there her absent friend she fails to find, 
 Then bends her course some evergreens behind, 
 Along the winding walk that upwards led 
 (Acacia and the Maple over head) 
 To where a weeping Ash's leafy pride 
 A shelter 'd arbour forms on every side : 160 
 
THE FATE OF MYFtA. 11 
 
 Eliza there melodious notes can hear, 
 'Tis Myra's tuneful voice salutes her ear; 
 Behind she listens to the plaintive song, 
 In ambush hid some filbert trees among. 
 
 MYRA'S SONG. 
 
 November's night was wet and dark, 
 
 And stormy was the sky, 
 When with my love I left the park, 
 
 While yonder sea ran high. 
 
 Then did my dear one part from me, 
 
 While many sobs I gave, 170 
 
 His warlike boat row'd out to sea, 
 High on the mountain wave. 
 
12 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 His signal (messenger of light, 
 And swifter than the wind,) 
 
 Flash'd news of safety on my sight, 
 And calm'd my anxious mind. 
 
 tty present* 
 
 Now, in my walks, as lone I stray, 
 
 Where'er with him I've been, 
 All Nature's beauty fades away, 
 
 Nor joy attends the scene. 180 
 
 On foreign shores he toils afar, 
 
 While Britain's foe he braves ; 
 He thunders dreadful in the war, 
 
 Or sleeps on stormy waves. 
 
 Affection's purest flame he pours 
 
 Through every letter's page ; 
 He thinks of me when battle roars, 
 
 Or mid the tempest's rage. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 13 
 
 'W&e ^Future* 
 
 Soon shall his wide and lofty sails 
 
 Majestic sweep the main, 190 
 
 And heaven will breathe in gentle gales 
 
 To waft him here again. 
 
 And all his labours then shall cease, 
 
 And never shall we part ! 
 I'll sink upon his breast in peace, 
 
 The bridegroom of my heart. 
 
 Yes, soon the joyous morn shall rise 
 
 (For swift the moments glide), 
 The joyous morn that ends my sighs, 
 
 When I shall be his bride. - 200 
 
 The listening maiden now collects her power 
 To shout with manly voice behind the bower : 
 As starts to hear the huntsman's peal at dawn. 
 Wild from her grassy couch the trembling fawn, 
 
14 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 While cold the life-blood curdles in her veins, 
 And, all erect, each foot's firm sinew strains, 
 Waits to confirm her fears with dreadful sight, 
 And meditates the while her swiftest flight ; 
 So starts the lovely tenant of the shade, 
 Struck by the feigned accent of the maid : 210 
 
 Warm in her blushing face the crimson glows, 
 The deepest red of sanguine-colour'd rose. 
 Her name again resounds ! with fright appalfd, 
 She thought the much-lov'd youth on Myra call'd ; 
 Enraptur'd by his voice, yet thrill'd with fear, 
 She wish'd him far away — though welcome here. 
 
 In came Eliza, laughing, as she said, 
 " So ! — at my manly voice the brides afraid ! 
 What, Myra! does he rove upon the deep? 
 He, like the waves, his promises will keep. 220 
 
 Toss'd here and there by all the winds that rise, 
 From constancy the sailor constant flies. 
 Beware, my love, the transitory spark, 
 A flash that leaves the dismal night more dark ! 
 More potent than the wildest raging storm 
 Is hopeless love to wreck the female form. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. IS 
 
 Trust not the pleasure, rapturous though it seem ; 
 
 But fly these vain delusions of a dream: 
 
 Forsake them, ere your partial hopes depart, 
 
 Or faithless love derides your conquer'd heart. 230 
 
 Bright though the prospects shine, yet govern still 
 
 With firm resolve the freedom of your will : 
 
 Think not this roving hero cares for you, 
 
 Oh, Myra ! sailors' hearts are never true ; 
 
 But fickle as the wind that rules the sea, 
 
 And transient as the dew upon the tree. 
 
 Strangers to fear, strangers to Love's sweet care ; 
 
 Thoughtless and wild, exposed to every snare, 
 
 Unfeeling, rude, and to the future blind, 
 
 They scorn the noblest passion of the mind." 240 
 
 As when in fight a friend or brother dies 
 Close by his side, fierce flash the warrior's eyes, 
 And passion lightens from his glance amain, 
 To see the foe smile scornful on the slain ; 
 He grasps his blade, he deeper prints his tread, 
 And burns and labours to avenge the dead ; 
 Thus Myra darts, the slander to upbraid, 
 A glance indignant on the prudent maid! 
 
18 THE FATE OF MYKA. 
 
 Impatient feelings large assistance lend, 
 
 While thus the lovely fair address'd her friend. 250 
 
 " Oh, dead to all the transport of the soul, 
 Thick clouds of foggy darkness o'er thee roll ! 
 Lost to the joys that mutual love can bring, 
 Those beauties that adorn life's tender spring, 
 No joyous correspondence canst thou keep 
 To light the gloomy terrors of the deep ; 
 No dear epistle's converse can impart 
 The thrill of hope to elevate thy heart, 
 Nor can thine eyes from yonder barren height 
 With longing gaze ken every ship in sight; 260 
 
 Watch their approach, and wait and wish them near, 
 While busy Fancy lends her succour dear 
 To paint a likeness in their head or stern, 
 And wake the transport of the youth's return. 
 
 u What! can Eliza think no sailor true! 
 Oh shame! ill sounds such calumny from you! 
 Remember, child, your father roves the main, 
 An honour to that honourable train ; 
 Your brother, too, once off Trafalgar bled, 
 And sheds reflected fame around your head! 270 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 17 
 
 What, are they rude, and with unfeeling mind, 
 
 As fickle and inconstant as the wind 1 
 
 Oh, hush ! Eliza speaks against her heart— 
 
 Her words must surely not her thoughts impart — 
 
 Perhaps my friend is singly doom'd to feel 
 
 The broken vow she cares not to reveal? 
 
 " A youth I love, nor blush my love to tell, 
 DoomM on tempestuous waves awhile to dwell, 
 With heart as firm, and honourably true, 
 As e'er romance, or song, the picture drew. 280 
 
 Free from the toil of school we used to stray, 
 And innocently pass the happy day, 
 When at his father's, on the other shore, 
 Oft Cornwall's loveliest park we travers'd o'er. 
 Advancing years bade Love my bosom warm, 
 And charmed I gazed upon his manly form. 
 Oh, can the bitter anguish of that day, 
 In Memory's record, ever cease to stay, 
 When, by the arm of War compell'd to part, 
 A tempest of concern o'erwhelm'd my heart ? 290 
 O, while the cruel vessel spread her sail, 
 How anxious pray'd I for an adverse gale ; 
 c 
 
18 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Then, watch'd his exit to the distant main, 
 
 And look'd, — and long'd, — and wish'd him back again ! 
 
 Homeward at last I went, my flowers to see, 
 
 But blooms and gardens had no joys for me. 
 
 Nor have they now, as once they had, the power 
 
 To fill with pleasure every lonely hour ; 
 
 Our sweet endearing walks they still recall, 
 
 And each reminds me absent is my all. 300 
 
 Not even the silent reign of friendly rest 
 
 Can lull to perfect ease my troubled breast ; 
 
 And long ere twilight streaks the orient skies, 
 
 Banished by thought, the balm of slumber flies. 
 
 But O ! whene'er again his safe return 
 
 I hail, what fires of rapture then will burn! 
 
 How will these brimming eyes with joy run o'er, 
 
 When heaven, propitious, brings me Theodore ! 
 
 " O say, my guardian angel, kindly say, 
 Thou who didst beam on me thy brightest ray, 310 
 And bid the richest joys of Eden rise, 
 When first I read the language of his eyes, 
 Those eyes that flashed with ardent love on me, 
 And thrill'd my burning soul with ecstasy. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 19 
 
 Say, at that hour, if aught my sailor knew 
 Of genuine passion, if his heart was true? 
 
 " Yes, let that rapturous agony record 
 Which drank each faultering accent of his word; 
 And left eternally the theme behind 
 In golden letters graven on my mind. 320 
 
 " Soon will the dear returning hero prove 
 With glowing heart the constancy of Love ; 
 Soon will my fluttering spirit upward rise 
 And taste the thrilling transports of the skies. 
 Then, when in shivering ecstasy I stand 
 To fasten that indissoluble band, 
 Oh give me firmness, heaven, to yield my virgin hand." 
 
 As when o'er yon expanse two stars combine 
 Of equal ray and magnitude to shine, 
 They cheer the concave of the dusky night, 330 
 And charm our wondering gaze with splendid light; 
 So these two matchless maidens of the bower 
 Shone in the light of Love's reflective power, 
 While Myra's theme rose eloquently high, 
 And drew her friend's soft streams of sympathy. 
 
 But hark ! the burst of thunder roars around ; 
 It echoes from the hills, and shakes the ground ; 
 C2 
 
20 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Some cruiser in the harbour fires a gun — 
 
 Soon both the maidens quit the bower and run 
 
 Far up the hill ; they pass the shrubbery gate, 340 
 
 Nor once along the steep ascent they wait 
 
 Till the tall summit of the height they gain, 
 
 And with inquiring eyes survey the main. 
 
 Hid in a cloud of smoke, a frigate there 
 
 With signal guns disturbs the peaceful air. 
 
 Joy beams from Myra, while we hear her say, 
 
 That ship is destined for the stormy bay ; 
 
 Perhaps she may relieve him from yon shore, 
 
 And send me home again, my Theodore. 
 
 Heaven to her station safe the vessel send, 350 
 
 That the Minerva's tedious cruise may end ! 
 
 But now, with stedfast eye, and forward lean, 
 
 Of import something in the south is seen : 
 
 In the horizon far the speck appears, 
 
 Oh heavens ! a sail ! and for the sound she steers I 
 
 The anxious Myra to a Birch repairs, 
 
 She bends the tree, the topmost twig prepares ; 
 
 The spotless cambric's either end she ties, 
 
 And soon her handkerchief a signal flies. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 21 
 
 In vain you watch yon ship, attentive maid, 360 
 
 In vain to her th' appointed signal's made ; 
 
 Her rakish 2 masts and canvass deeply tann'd 
 
 Prove her from France, by British captors mann'd ; 
 
 The union flag confirms her now a prize, 
 
 While calm and safe in the smooth sound she lies. 
 
 A boat from her then nimbly lower'd down, 
 
 With long and steady stroke soon reach'd the town : 
 
 And now she lands a chief on Plymouth stairs, 
 
 A gallant youth, who to the farm repairs ; 
 
 Soon to his mournful tale we must attend, 370 
 
 And soon that tale one constant heart shall rend ! 
 
 Now down the path the nymphs returning trode, 
 Eliza leaves her friend, and takes the road 
 That leads for home ; (she deeply drank the bliss 
 Of sympathy, nor went without a kiss.) 
 Then Myra for her garden treads the lawn, 
 And gaily carols to the genial morn. 
 
 But, harp! what here so long invites thy stay, 
 In bowers to breathe the soft enchanting lay 1 
 Haste thee, to Biscay's northern shores away ! 380 
 
 END OF THE FIRST PART. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE TIDINGS. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 At the conclusion of a cruise performed by one of his Majesty's 
 ships, after noticing her course from Etel to Quiberon Bay, her 
 captain visiting the island of Hedic gains the information that a 
 vessel is waiting a fair wind for sea in the Loire. He determines 
 on cutting her out, the achievement of which is fully described. 
 An officer, who assisted in the capture, conducts the prize to Ply- 
 mouth, and immediately on his landing repairs to Herbert, the 
 uncle of his friend and fellow officer, who was slain in a subsequent 
 enterprise, and relates to him the full particulars of that disastrous 
 event. The sorrow of this relative is pourtrayed, aggravated by 
 solicitude for the keen sensibility of his daughter's mind. A 
 request to hear from Adrian (commander of the prize) a particular 
 account of the cruise, in order to beguile his woes, concludes the 
 second part. 
 
 The scene reaches from Etel, near L'Orient, the mouth of the 
 Loire, Quiberon Bay, &c. on the coast of France, to Plymouth. 
 The time is five days, in which the first and two last parts are 
 included. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE TIDINGS. 
 
 Self-flatter'd, unexperienc'd, high in hope, 
 
 When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay, 
 
 We cat oar cable, launch into the world, 
 
 And fondly dream each wind and star our friend ; 
 
 All, in some darling enterprise embark'd: 
 
 But where is he can fathom its event? 
 
 As on some coral reef the sailor cast 
 Springs in the deep to gain a broken mast, 
 And with the dreadful surge upborne on high, 
 Casts on the distant shore his longing eye ; 
 Then by the quivering billow downward driven 
 Sinks in the vale, and nought can view but heaven, 
 
26 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 And half regrets he left the rock, though there 
 
 No gleam of safety chased away despair, 
 
 Till borne aloft, as now the waves arise, 
 
 Hope, and the land, once more delight his eyes : 10 
 
 So, skill'd alone in labours of the main, 
 
 Hoping and trembling do I pour the strain. 
 
 O heavenly Muse ! deign with one spark of fire 
 
 Thy weary suppliant mariner inspire ! 
 
 Spurn not his weak presumption thus to brave 
 
 The numerous perils of an untried wave, 
 
 But lead, propitious, to that peaceful bay 
 
 Where science shines with broad refulgent day. 
 
 In ruddy lines, as banner'd hosts for war, 
 The morning stream'd o'er eastern hills afar, 20 
 When from the shores of EteFs hostile vale 
 A vessel spread her canvass to the gale. 
 Her royals \ from the lofty yards reclin'd, 
 Strain their taught sheets to court the tardy wind, 
 And skysails crown the masts in full array, 
 To drive her bosom through the watery way. 
 Her name Minerva — as that goddess brave, 
 She towers majestic o'er the Biscay 'n wave. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 27 
 
 A roving cruiser here her business lies 
 
 To watch the foe, or seek a wealthy prize. 30 
 
 Unseen her consorts at the Glenans lay, 
 
 And strive in vain to tempt the Gaul away; 
 
 For stripped in L'Orient these Frenchmen ride, 
 
 Nor dare provoke the British on the tide. 
 
 This gallant ship steers for her commodore, 
 
 But, ere she gains upon his distant prore, 
 
 Her pennants 2 travelling up his mizen rise, 
 
 While to his main the signal order flies, 
 
 Hence to repair, to guide the dexter wheel, 
 
 To steer between the Pornichet and Vieille ; 40 
 
 And, commodore of a small train, to lay 
 
 Until reliev'd she homeward bears away. 
 
 Her captain this obeys — he courts the gale, 
 
 He fills his yards, and spreads each useful sail ; 
 
 Nor hence for many leagues prolongs his stay, 
 
 Till the main- top-sail curbs his furious way 3 . 
 
 For, lo ! two vessels, on the weather beam 4 
 
 Now bearing down, with crowded sails are seen : 
 
 These are his consort ships, prepar'd to ride 
 
 Where the broad Loire rolls down its ample tide. 50 
 
28 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 His trumpet then the chief presents to hail, 
 
 And the hoarse sound is wafted on the gale — 
 
 " Soon as the morning shines upon the main, 
 
 Haul in for Nantes, within the rocks again ; 
 
 Between the Baguenord and Ranguay repair, 
 
 And stay, till I return, and anchor there." 
 
 The willing chiefs, obedient to his word, 
 
 At dawn stand in with starboard tacks on board ; 
 
 Nor does our vessel stay inactive here, 
 
 But presses on at distance from Pelier, 60 
 
 Till to the fertile Isle of Dieu she came ; 
 
 While there a signal, made to Notre Dame, 
 
 Flies on a tower, which, as the ship sails round, 
 
 On either side appears the castle mound. 
 
 They circle all the isle, and through the night, 
 
 At anchor, watchful wait the morning light ; 
 
 But not one sail is ever shoreward seen, 
 
 The cautious Frenchmen by their fears made keen. 
 
 Prizeless awakes the anchor from the deep, 
 
 And north-nor-west their course the helmsmen keep; 
 
 Till off Sebastien's seen our ships again, 71 
 
 And " no intelligence" ascends their main: 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 29 
 
 Dumet and Vilaine's stream they next survey, 
 As sweeps her keel the waves of Quiberon Bay ; 
 Then when the anchor thundering leaves the prore, 
 The captain, in his barge, repairs on shore, 
 And for the Isle of Hedic strains the oar. 
 The boat's sharp stem soon cleaves the sandy ground, 
 And well secur'd, they o'er the hillocks bound. 
 High on a rising ground the warrior stands, 80 
 
 A field that looks o'er circumjacent lands ; 
 Close on the left from thence 'mid rocks are seen 
 These sister islands crown'd with living green ; 
 Beyond which awful forms detain the eye, 
 O'er whose dark surface dreadful breakers fly : 
 Dire is their sable garb; their hideous roar, 
 Like bursting thunders, wakes the peaceful shore : 
 Far as the distant point which forms the bay 
 These murderers intercept the watery way. 
 Westward again, the guardian cliffs arise, 90 
 
 In azure mingled with the distant skies, 
 Where British standards rose unfurled awhile, 
 And Hodgson reign'd the conqueror of Belle-isle 5 . 
 
30 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 While round the musing chief his sailors stand, 
 Approaches now the ruler of the land ; 
 The captain turning views his aged friend, 
 Joyous they meet, and home their course they bend. 
 This man for wisdom here was much renown'd, 
 Belov'd he liv'd, and pray'd for all around. 
 Where Figs and Mulberries their branches spread, 100 
 Down to his cot this priest our chieftain led. 
 In front no green viranda towers on high, 
 The door they enter well could storms defy, 
 No slated roof salutes the bending clouds, 
 But lowly thatch the flinty fabric shrouds; 
 The massy chairs within by worms decayed, 
 Ingenious seem in distant ages made ; 
 An ancient table there is rudely spread 
 With cheese and garlic, grapes, and sable bread. 
 Up-end there stands the produce of the vine, 110 
 A cask that holds profuse the mellow wine. 
 A maid extracts the sweet inspiring store, 
 And every purple horn runs sparkling o'er. 
 The worthy friends partake of hardy fare, 
 Pleas'd with their converse, and forget their care. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 31 
 
 Our captain, skill'd to rule the naval train, 
 Knew all the mystic mazes of the main; 
 Where'er the frigate cruised his active mind 
 The deep recesses of the foe would find ; 
 And hence it is his guileful feet explore, 120 
 
 For information, this unguarded shore. 
 
 Thus spoke the chief, " Oh much revered sire, 
 This day my thoughts to hardy deeds aspire; 
 Fame and the hope of vengeance hover o'er, 
 And urge our feet to yonder hostile shore. 
 A hero waits a tribute from my blade, 
 Some hostile ghost, a victim to his shade. 
 In him I mourn a valuable friend, 
 Whose mounting soul angelic bands attend. 
 On yonder shores this gallant youth was slain, 130 * 
 And unreveng'd his fair one lost her swain : 
 She, brighter than the opening bloom of May, 
 Awaits her lover and the expected day. 
 Ah, maid unblest ! his feet will ne'er explore 
 Again thy home, or yonder happy shore. 
 Soon bitter tears shall dim thy radiant eyes, 
 Fix'd on the gloomy grandeur of the skies ; 
 
32 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Doom'd irretrievably to weep forlorn, 
 Nor hail as once with joy the genial morn. 
 
 " Say, father, when you cross'd this peaceful bay, 
 And up the Loire pursued the watery way, 141 
 
 What was the naval force at anchor there ? 
 Did any ships to put to sea prepare 1 
 How were they moor'd, how mannd, how strong 
 
 their guard, 
 What rate of guns, and number in each yard ? 
 For, ere we leave this coast, some deed of war 
 Shall blaze in triumph to our shores afar. 
 My hardy lads to fight yon ships aspire, 
 Their gallant hearts are warm with ardent fire ; 
 Eager to make these Gallic skulkers feel 150 
 
 Fair on their decks the force of British steel." 
 
 Then thus the island ruler made reply, — 
 " Still on your guardian vessels we rely ; 
 When their white sails enlarging hither spread, 
 Then safety showers her blessings round our bed. 
 For robb'd and spoil'd by our own privateers, 
 No cattle in the verdant mead appears. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 33 
 
 They, partly mann'd by England's refuse crew, 
 
 (When hither they can steer unseen by you), 
 
 The petty trade of knavery pursue. 160 
 
 Then, noble warrior of a gallant land, 
 
 Thine is my thought, my wish, my heart, and hand ! 
 
 When up the Loire I spread my humble sail, 
 
 'Twas distant far I saw them, o'er the vale, 
 
 Too safe — for planted formidably there 
 
 Along the waters dark artillery stare. 
 
 Except a schooner, she below them lay, 
 
 And from the road of Mindin soon would weigh 
 
 Perhaps her anchor ; whence with ease she'll steer 
 
 In fairer gales, and all your squadron clear. 170 
 
 Now this is all my bosom can impart, 
 
 But, if such daring deeds inspire your heart, 
 
 May heaven your person guard, your men defend, 
 
 And many a prize to distant Plymouth send/' 
 
 This pondering o'er, and deep immersed in though t, 
 Our captain heard, nor further council sought. 
 Well known to him the soundings of that shore, 
 And his he counts her ere two nights are o'er. 
 D 
 
34 THE FATE OF MYItA. 
 
 But, silent of his purpose for awhile, 
 
 He turns the conversation to their toil — 180 
 
 Of cattle, or what fills the farmer's hand, 
 
 They talk ; of cultivation, of the land — 
 
 Till in the pitcher ebbs the wine aground, 
 
 And the last living cup goes nimbly round. 
 
 Thus pass'd the hour that brought on twilight eve, 
 
 He then collects his men, and takes his leave, 
 
 While to the chief, as well-belov'd as brave, 
 
 His friend, the priest, a store of presents gave : 
 
 The sailors all the weighty burthen bore 
 
 Of fowls and vegetables to the shore. 190 
 
 Then from the beach they loosen, and on high 
 
 Sway up the yards while o'er the main they fly; 
 
 Swift from their gazing host impatient glide, 
 
 Skim the blue wave, and gain the vessel's side. 
 
 Auroras glories now majestic rise 
 With golden splendour in the orient skies, 
 And roused from slumbers of the silent night 
 The captain greets the morn's refulgent light. 
 Soon from beneath, the anchor owns the strain 
 Of circling bars, and rises o'er the main; 200 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 35 
 
 The swelling sails the gentle breezes feel, 
 And through the deep impel her gliding keel. 
 Soon Guerande's spires surmount the distant land, 
 And Blanche * is seen upon the starboard hand. 
 The ship unto her station nearer drew, 
 While the broad waters of the Loire we view ; 
 We then clew up, upon the buntliiies haul, 
 And thundering let the weighty anchor fall. 
 
 Soon as dim evening draws her curtain o'er 
 The misty skies, and veils the distant shore, 210 
 Three boats astern well arm'd and niann'd there lay 
 Until th' impatient captain hies away. 
 " Away there ! cast us off!" the word he gave : 
 He sails with ample knowledge of the wave. 
 Before his barge the dancing waves divide, 
 The sparkling waters foam along her side ; 
 Astern, the launch, with bending mast and sail, 
 Enjoys the steady pressure of the gale; 
 Abeam, the cutter, with a peerless grace, 
 Rigg'd as a lugger, joins the nightly race. 220 
 
 * The Blanche Rock. 
 D2 
 
36 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 They sail till far Chemoulin's left behind, 
 And near point Levee soon he hauls his wind. 
 His night-glass now he takes, and glances o'er 
 The watery way : a vessel's seen before ! 
 Just as the priest described, at anchor there 
 A schooner rides ! the boats to board prepare. 
 They drop the sails, their oars extended sweep, 
 And now a swift yet steady course they keep. 
 
 The earth around her axle once had roll'd 
 Since the tall schooner loosed her watery hold, 230 
 Well arm'd and mann'd, from Mindin roads to steer, 
 And till the turn of tide to anchor here. 
 In vain the tide, ye Frenchmen! ebbs for you! 
 The wind auspicious for the British blew. 
 " Lo, here they come !" the watch, in dire alarm, 
 Proclaim aloud, and shout " the crew to arm!" 
 Roused from their rest below, on deck they pour, 
 And seize with haste their arms, and line the prore. 
 Too late their guns are aim'd; the boats are near; 
 The barge's crew upon her bows appear. 240 
 
 They fire their pistols, board her sword in hand, 
 And fighting on the deck resistless stand, 
 A small, but brave, impenetrable band. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 37 
 
 The launch then boards abaft, they clamber o'er, 
 
 Staining the taffarel and the stern with gore. 
 
 The crew robust, with Adrian at their head, 
 
 Next gain the deck, and swell the heaps of dead. 
 
 Adrian, the bravest chief of Britain's land, 
 
 Undaunted here maintains his stubborn stand ; 
 
 As first lieutenant for this cruise he came, 250 
 
 For skill in active war a mighty name. 
 
 Nor yet the wish'd appointment from the board 
 
 Requites his merit with deserved reward : 
 
 Thrice here as first lieutenant he commands, 
 
 And thrice gives way for young unskilful hands, 
 
 Upheld by powerful friends of noble name, 
 
 But sharing not the sailor-warrior's fame. 
 
 Although their blazon'd names ashore are borne, 
 
 The sailors hold them up a mark for scorn ! 
 
 Not so with Adrian ; for, around him here, 260 
 
 His men to fight all emulous appear; 
 
 Fired by his courage, where he bends his way, 
 
 Onward they rush amid the deadly fray. 
 
 Though charg'd by rows of pikes, and press'd amain, 
 
 Their crimson progress firmly they maintain, 
 
38 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Till broad and deep speed tomahawk and steel, 
 And dashing on, this hero gains the wheel. 
 
 Meanwhile the cutter on the cable lay, 
 For her's the task to cut the ship away. 
 Now gleams the axe aloft, now deep descends, 270 
 And from her trembling hold the vessel rends ; 
 Next o'er the channels 6 , up the shrouds they hie, 
 Release the gaskets 7 and the sail untie, 
 Haul home the sheets 8 , then at the halliards 9 sway, 
 And on the fore-top-bowline IO haul away. 
 Thus trimm'd before, — bold Adrian in the rear 
 Defends the wheel, and leaves a hand to steer. 
 They lay her off the land, — thus moves the prore, 
 That no assistance reach her from the shore ! — 
 Their task aloft fulfill'd, the cutters lend 280 
 
 Their aid on deck, and with their arms attend ; 
 In phalanx round the captain join the fray, 
 Rush on the savage foe, and cut away. 
 
 Now while the French were press'd before, behind, 
 To frenzy rose their stubborn master's mind ; 
 Amid the bargemen lo ! he springs amain, 
 Deals round his blows, and many a Briton's slain. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 39 
 
 Our captain then, approaching, wards a blow, 
 And drives his cutlass through the frantic foe. 
 Their hero dead, some down the hatchways fly, 290 
 Submissive, others loud for quarter cry, 
 While o'er their flag the union waves on high. 
 
 Now rising from the east, o'er prospects gay, 
 The spreading dawn precedes the light of day. 
 Loosed all the schooner's canvass to the wind, 
 The victors leave the hostile coast behind. 
 When first they cut this ship away the tide 
 Run slack ; now, as it ebbs, they downward glide. 
 Clear all the frowning cannon of the shore, 
 And for the brave Minerva point her prore. 300 
 Their ship they with another vessel see, 
 And anchor soon beneath the frigate's lee. 
 The prisoners then secur'd, the sanguine stain 
 Of blood they wash, sad relics of the slain ! 
 Swift o'er the deck the briny buckets fly, 
 And drenching streams erase the gory dye. 
 Then, in the regions of the silent deep, 
 Consign'd to sink in everlasting sleep, 
 The crew commit their friends, and silent mourn 
 Their widows' tears, and children left forlorn. 310 
 
40 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Seven in the long contested fight were slain, 
 
 And four of these had children to maintain, 
 
 Or part maintain ; their blameless wives on shore 
 
 Had half their pay, and earn'd a pittance more. 
 
 Far better days once on them lovely shone, 
 
 Domestic comforts once were all their own. 
 
 Their husbands, mates of merchant ships, saiPd o'er 
 
 In peace to foreign lands with British store, 
 
 Till by the savage pressgang torn away, 
 
 Their homes, their wives, and infants, now a prey 
 
 Of wretchedness, in misery decay. 321 
 
 What ! tear the father from his children dear ! 
 
 Force him to fight, then mock the widow's tear ! 
 
 What! let the children of our tars complain, 
 
 The men who guard our shores and rule the main ! 
 
 Yes, England can deny them ample hire, 
 
 Drag them from home, from wife, and social fire, 
 
 Like slaves in dungeon holds of tenders keep, 
 
 Or send them cheerless on the stormy deep 11 . 
 
 Unknown to fair Columbia's free-born strand, 330 
 
 This tyrant stain pollutes the British land. 
 
 Our frigate, now relieved, hoists out her stores 
 For those who stay to watch the hostile shores. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 41 
 
 The ship that near the tall Minerva lay 
 Was order'd hither, in her stead to stay. 
 Their arduous cruise fulfilled, the crew prepare 
 To sail for England, and relax their care. 
 On board the schooner then brave Adrian hies. 
 And from the gallant frigate mans the prize. 
 His men the windlass ply, the anchor weigh, 340 
 And with their canvass wings the masts array, 
 While from the Gallic shores they joyous bear away, 
 The wary chief his chart then pondering o'er, s 
 She clears the islands and the rocky shore ; 
 The Biscay n waves before her stem divide, 
 Unwilling part, and roaring lave her side, 
 Till o'er the vast Atlantic rolls the day, 
 And the bright gleam of Ushant points the way. 
 That pass'd, fair Britanny's frequented shore 
 With all its verdant isles is seen no more. 350 
 
 Soon on the lee the hills of Cornwall rise, 
 And next the fields of Devon meet their eyes; 
 Their longing eyes those beauteous fields survey, 
 While round the Ram-head opens Cawsand Bay. 
 Steady she glides, the gentler waves recede, 
 Till of their ponderous load the bows are freed. 
 
42 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Moor'd in the sound, the chieftain mans his barge, 
 And to the mate awhile commits his charge. 
 The queen of smiles, whose magic power at will 
 Can bid the heart with tenderest feelings thrill, 360 
 Had warm'd his breast ; still Memory would record, 
 With repetition sweet, the parting word, 
 The deep expression of the speaking tear, 
 The look, the smile, the form for ever dear ! 
 Hope, and the matchless maid his soul adores, 
 With magnet powers attract him to the shores. 
 But faithful friendship first presents her claim, 
 Oh, Theodore ! to sound thy dying fame. 
 How will the father feel his daughter's care! 
 How will her angel form such sorrow bear ! 370 
 
 Thy fate, oh youth! thy aged friend must hear, 
 And all the woeful tragedy appear. 
 
 Through Plymouth turrets now the hero flies, 
 And from the market to the east he hies ; 
 A well-known track his feet have often trode 
 The chief pursues, to reach his friend's abode. 
 Old Herbert first observ'd his hasty tread, 
 Herbert intended father of the dead, 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 43 
 
 For much esteem'd by him was Theodore, 
 
 The youth who fell on Etel's sandy shore. 380 
 
 Soon as exchanged the friendly meeting smile, 
 Thus Herbert spoke : "Thrice welcome from thy toil, 
 From savage war, distress in every form, 
 And seas tormented by the raging storm! 
 Here shall the moments joyful pass away, 
 While with the fair o'er these green hills you stray ! 
 But why thy visit here for once alone ? 
 Why came not with you Myra's faithful one? 
 Perhaps your friend and messmate duty binds, 
 Or seeks he yet his fortune from the winds 1 390 
 Perhaps some gale has blown a Frenchman near, 
 And hence a prize procured your passage here T 
 
 Thus Herbert spoke, and thus replied the chief, 
 Whose manly brow was clouded o'er with grief, 
 " Oh friend ! with firmness be thy mind controPd, 
 For sad the story thou must now be told. 
 Nine times has Phoebus from his azure height 
 Scattered the vivifying beams of light, 
 Nine times has Night, in sable robes array'd, 
 The glittering gems of other spheres display'd, 400 
 
44 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Since, rising far above the watery way, 
 The morning planet gave the hapless day, 
 Ah hapless day! whose evening could divide 
 A friendship long in adverse fortune try'd ! 
 
 " Still as the calm with every breeze confined, 
 A daring deed my gallant friend designed. 
 The ship had anchor'd south of Groaix's strand, 
 Off Etel and contiguous to the land: 
 Near this, a house, in hostile guise array'd, 
 Adjoins a gun that guards their coasting trade. 410 
 To storm them both was then the chiefs design ; 
 His ill success to tell, alas ! is mine. 
 
 " High o'er the booms the stays l2 and yards sustain 
 Three warlike boats — they launch them in the main: 
 And now the ready seamen all implore 
 For leave to join the valiant Theodore. 
 The season was when Nature's green array 
 On flowery meads confessed the first of May. 
 As o'er the side the bravest hero goes, 
 Heedless of fate, or Myra's coming woes, 420 
 
 Jocose he spoke, exulting as he said, 
 ■' A Maying here I seek the vernal shade.' 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 45 
 
 With fervour firm as friendship e'er possessed 
 
 He bade farewell, — my hand with ardour press'd — 
 
 Oh agonizing prelude to a night 
 
 That bars his eyes eternally from light ! 
 
 Awhile we watch his sparkling oars retire, 
 
 And long we listen till we hear his fire. 
 
 " Your comrades yonder fight — -oh say, ye brave ! 
 Who sleep secure on Biscay's topmost wave, 430 
 Say, when you see the battle blaze afar, 
 Do ye not burn to join your friends in war] 
 Yes, as the mastiff, who enchain'd must stay, 
 When in the street he hears the canine fray, 
 With savage ardour thirsts to join the fight, 
 And scares with hoarsest growl the peaceful night ; 
 So anxious thoughts, while on the shores we gaze, 
 Fire our warm hearts to mingle in the blaze ! 
 The contest o'er, our rockets then let fly 
 Emit their fiery light, and pierce the sky : 440 
 
 This for a signal when the boats return, 
 By which the ship's position they discern. 
 Four bells I3 proclaim the middle watch half o'er 
 Ere we descry again his active prore ; 
 
 \ 
 
46 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 At length the boats arrive — oh dismal tale ! 
 They bring his lifeless body from the vale ! 
 
 " Raymond, a chief, the vessel's side ascends, 
 His manly mind with friendly sorrow bends. 
 Though from the shores this youth but lately came, 
 Famous in active war resounds his name. 450 
 
 Presiding o'er the brave marines he stands, 
 And, blending skill with valour, firm commands. 
 A wounded bosom pains the feeling man, 
 While, overwhelm'd with grief, he thus began." 
 
 " Oh friends ! disastrous horror ruled the scene ! 
 Disaster dire these smarting eyes have seen ! 
 Exulting as we up the sand-hills bound, 
 Near Theodore I trod the yellow ground. 
 Twelve chosen hands with us their muskets bear, 
 And twelve, at distance, steal a circuit there ; 460 
 The rest are ordered by the boats to stay, 
 While for the gun we silent shape our way. 
 As yet the Frenchmen see no evil rise, 
 Half sunk to rest in slumber each one lies. 
 Reposing in the guard-house wait this band ; 
 But ten around the cannon watching stand. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 47 
 
 Cautious we still proceed, at length we hear 
 Them shout, and soon erect they all appear ; 
 Once more they hail ; our silence we maintain ; 
 Once more to speak they summon us again ! 470 
 Then, like a hawk descending on his prey, 
 Onward we rush, and sudden they give way. 
 Fleet as from dogs retreats the trembling hind, 
 So swift the foe our sailors leave behind. 
 Cowards they were ! if but a steady hand 
 Had fired the gun, well pointed down the strand, 
 Their grape had stretch'd us bleeding on the sand. 
 But swift as light for shelter now they steer, 
 And safe within the block-house soon appear. 
 Safe all but three, excluded who remain ; 480 
 
 A rapid flight these o'er the hills maintain; 
 Close at their heels in chase we nimbly run, 
 Till one, more tardy, halting points his gun ; 
 But, ere the trigger strikes the latent fire, 
 A seaman aims, and wings the leaden ire — 
 Shrill through his musket stock the torment bends, 
 And from his trembling hand a finger rends ; 
 Roaring he measures round the house his way, 
 Our eager chief pursuing marks his prey, 
 
48 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 The brandish'd blade portends a fatal fall, 490 
 
 It miss'd, but lightning flashes from the wall. 
 While thus the hanger struck the flints, again 
 He starts, the sailors chase him o'er the plain ; 
 Successful soon they bear him to the shore, 
 While bravely now approaches Theodore, 
 And shouts a martial summons at the door : 
 c Surrender ! (thrice he passionately calls) 
 Surrender, and forsake your guarded walls, 
 Or instantly we wheel the cannon round, 499 
 
 And thundering raze your fortress to the ground !' 
 
 " Oh guardian Heaven ! and all ye pow'rs above ! 
 Oh wherefore should such courage fatal prove 2 
 What pangs of anguish keen my bosom rend ! 
 Pierced through the heart he falls, my friend ! my 
 
 friend ! 
 Still from three blazing apertures they pour, 
 A whizzing deluge through the flashing door, 
 While we approach and bear him to the shore. 
 The country all alarm'd, the beacons fired, 
 And armies gathering round, we then retired : 
 But first, collected near the entrance stood, 510 
 A ponderous entrance form'd of massy wood, 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 49 
 
 And, with a sudden and tremendous sound, 
 A volley gave, that splintered all around. 
 Within they groan ! we haste and spike the gun, 
 Then to the beach, pursued, yet safely run. 
 All in the boats embark, and back return, 
 Except the man for whom I sorely mourn." 
 
 Still on his lips the gloomy story hung, 
 And every bosom deepest sorrow stung. 
 I heard, from tears unable to refrain, 520 
 
 And all my soul was thrill'd with keenest pain ! 
 
 " The time elapsed when twice pale Luna gave 
 Her silver radiance to the southern wave, 
 We then on shore his obsequies attend, 
 And pay the last sad tribute to our friend. 
 Upon an isle with verdant shrubs o'erspread, 
 And unpolluted with a Frenchman's tread, 
 We give his relics to unhallowed ground, 
 And, overwhelmed with anguish, weep around. 
 No harden'd sailor there suppress'd a tear, 530 
 
 The chief by mild command to them was dear : 
 Superior skill with valour he combin'd, 
 And gentlest manners with a warlike mind." 
 
 E 
 
50 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Thus Adrian spoke. When Herbert, in reply — 
 (His eyes were streams, his soul was agony :) 
 " Oh righteous God ! forgive a feeling heart 
 Now with abundant grief ordain'd to smart! 
 Thy Providence immutably is just, 
 Beyond the comprehension of our dust. 
 Through boundless Nature thy resistless will 540 
 Decrees, and awful destinies fulfil. 
 Oh then forgive awhile these murmuring sighs, 
 For keenest sorrows exquisite arise ! 
 Grief tyrant reigns, sad sovereign of my soul, 
 Usurps the helm, and overleaps control. 
 
 a How fair the morning chaced the midnight storm, 
 The morning of my hope, thy angel form; 
 When, by severest suffering press'd to earth, 
 Thy much lov'd mother, Myra, gave thee birth, 
 Saw thee presented to thy father's sight, 550 
 
 Then bow'd her head, and sunk in endless night ! 
 Now, with increasing years, thy growing mind 
 Shines in the sister arts, with skill refined : 
 Exhilarating tone, harmonious sound, 
 And finish'd vocal strains with thee are found. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 51 
 
 Thy genius all the shades of colour knew, 
 And exquisite each chosen subject drew; 
 Dipp'd in the radiance of the morning sky 
 Thy pencil paints a living scenery ! 
 
 " Alas ! my friend, how will her tender frame 560 
 Endure this shock, keen as the lightning's flame'? 
 Cursed be the cruel hour when savage War 
 Forced him from friends and peaceful trade afar ; 
 Taught him from commerce and from gain to turn, 
 And on the field of naval glory burn ! 
 Cursed hour ! when from yon vessel press'd away 
 Poor empty honour claim'd his youthful day ! 
 My brother's only son — his father bound 
 Him to the sea; but, press'd in Plymouth Sound, 
 A slave I4 they forced him o'er the angry main, 570 
 Long, long, before he saw his friends again ! 
 And long in fatal climates was his stay, 
 Where busy Death's devouring jaws made way 
 For men of rising talents to appear, 
 And claim a place the great deny them here ! 
 Promoted he return'd, but still the same, 
 A constant suitor to fair Myra came. 
 E 2 
 
52 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 From tender childhood they each other knew, 
 And with their growing years their friendship grew ; 
 Till friendship ripen'd soon to ardent love, 580 
 
 Amidst the shades of Edgecumbe's leafy grove. 
 " Oh turn my soul from this sad scene away, 
 And lead awhile my tortured thought astray, 
 For hither, unsuspecting, she'll return, 
 And all this tragic scene of horror learn. 
 Then must her bosom pangs more fatal feel 
 Than from the thrust of keenly pointed steel. 
 Oh, then, when here the tender nymph arrives, 
 On your reserve depends our future lives. 
 You must not then the ruthless scene impart, 590 
 The dreadful shock would surely rend her heart; 
 Say, then, that long expected Theodore 
 Stays yet upon the distant Biscay'n shore ! 
 For this let brighter converse lull our woe, 
 At least a feigned cheerfulness to show. 
 Let happier scenes of yonder cruise arise, 
 And show me where your roving vessel flies; 
 Relate what shores you visit, prizes gain, 
 With all the ruffling hardships of the main — 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 53 
 
 The story will, perhaps, beguile our grief, 600 
 
 And give from gushing tears a short relief/' 
 
 Then Adrian to relieve the feeling man, 
 While bled his very heart, the cruise began. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND PART. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE CRUISE. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Adrian begins the relation of the cruise. He goes on board the 
 ship in a gale of wind, in Plymouth Sound. When the gale abates 
 she sails, clears the harbour, and arrives on the coast of Spain. 
 A lugger is discovered, and chaced under a battery near Ferrol. 
 They visit the island of Ionzo. The barge is sent on an expedition 
 up the harbour. Curious scene on shore. A rowboat is taken ; 
 an affecting narrative of the death of her master and his son. 
 Three boats sent away on another expedition, in the night, to storm 
 the town of Finisterre, which is completely successful, and a large 
 fleet of Chasse-Marees is brought out and burnt. The ship runs 
 down the coast to Cape Ortugal. The admiral on that station 
 orders her to Oporto, near which town a Spanish rowboat is 
 chaced and driven on shore by the cutter and barge. 
 
 Adrian relates the perils to which he was exposed on the rocks 
 by the surf, and on shore by the Spanish crew and Portuguese 
 peasantry. Their uncomfortable march to Oporto, and safe return 
 at length on board the ship, which lies at an anchor off that town. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE CRUISE. 
 
 Poor child of danger, nursling of the storm, 
 Sad are the woes that wreck thy manly form ! 
 Rocks, waves, and winds, the shattered bark delay ; 
 Thy heart is sad, thy home is far away. 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 In sultry climes, where Death's terrific form 
 The fiery fever sheds, and rides the storm, 
 Where'er the mariners their vessels steer 
 Sad they behold his awful presence near; 
 Still round the coast his ensigns he displays, 
 And all the hosts of pestilence arrays. 
 
58 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Then, though their valued comrades are no more, 
 
 Whose sudden loss they bitterly deplore, 
 
 Yet glad they for a colder zone prepare, 
 
 To hear again no solemn requiem there ; 10 
 
 Rejoice to see the snowy hills arise, 
 
 And shivering wipe the sorrow from their eyes — 
 
 So may the varied retrospective view 
 
 Of our eventful cruise, perhaps, renew 
 
 Some pleasing thoughts. 7 Twas thus spoke Adrian, 
 
 And thus the story of their toils began. 
 
 " When, with the Archer in his southern ract 
 The sun called forth the labours of the chace, 
 When rudely sung the equinoctial gale, 
 And the dark morning heard the sounding flail 20 
 Threshing the grain on Autumn's teeming floor, 
 Then, with Sir George, I left fair Plymouth's shore, 
 For scenes as rough as rose the swell around 
 Of dreadful waves that roll'd into the Sound. 
 No golden beam of dawning orient light 
 Cheer'd the dark gloom that wrapp'd around our sight ; 
 But, far-advanc'd, came the forerunner form 
 That loudly blew the vanguard of a storm, 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 59 
 
 And warn'd us off. Obedient we prepare, 
 
 Shove off our boat, and to the ship repair. 30 
 
 High on the summit of each watery height 
 
 We pant for breath, the spray obstructs our sight ; 
 
 Till, for a moment, in the hollow sea 
 
 Becalm'd we lay, nor land or vessel see. 
 
 High on the dancing waves again we rise, 
 
 While sweep the oars, and swift our cutter flies. 
 
 We reach the ship, nor venture near her side, 
 
 But in the tackles of the stern confide. 
 
 Sir George then seiz'd the ladder as we rose, 
 
 While deeper than the keel again she goes ; 40 
 
 Again, uprising, the broad decks we eye, 
 
 Descending, then the taffarel frowns on high. 
 
 At length I grasp the rope; one spring I gave 
 
 To gain the stern, half buried in the wave, 
 
 And land on deck, while all aloft I find 
 
 Secure against a southern gale of wind. 
 
 Two cables, stretching from the pitching prore, 
 
 Trail from her bows their ample length before. 
 
 An axe was ready in a seaman's hand, 
 
 While by the largest anchor now they stand. 50 
 
60 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Our business this, while oft the Winter's storm 
 These harbours like an open sea deform : 
 For round our coast the British sailor finds 
 No sheltered bay to guard him from the winds ; 
 But daily in the boats they must contend 
 With all the rage with which these tempests rend. 
 
 " Although the morning gloomy prospects spread, 
 And showers of battering rain around us shed, 
 Yet, when along the south the sun grew high, 
 He burst tke clouds, and gave a calmer sky. 60 
 
 The sea subsides ; a gentler gale veers round ; 
 A*id willing tides invite us from the Sound. 
 The capstan bars x are mann'd, the topsails rise, 
 And through the hawse 2 the trembling cable flies. 
 The iron anchors hold the ground no more, 
 The nimble braces 3 cast her from the shore. 
 The flowing canvass fill'd, she sails away, 
 And opens all the coasts of Cawsand Bay. 
 The Ram emerges with his sable head, 
 The park descends where skipping deer are fed, 70 
 And lofty firs their dark green foliage spread. 
 
 " Now bends our flying frigate to the main, 
 Majestic as an eagle leaves the plain; 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 61 
 
 Like him in swiftness loo we cross'd the sea, 
 Till OrtugaPs projecting height we see ; 
 Then, shortening sail, our cruising ground we gain, 
 And leisurely survey the coast of Spain. 
 
 "Romantic here the towering prospects rise, 
 And fix the younger sailor's wondering eyes. 
 Surprised he views the grandeur of the height, 80 
 While clouds obstruct his elevated sight ; 
 The shrubby hills, with rocks of purple hue ; 
 The distant mountains of ethereal blue; 
 And, as the nimble vessel onward flies, 
 He sees the cultivated valley rise, 
 Where round the cot the vine and orange grow, 
 Beneath a tall, dark, overhanging brow : 
 And as in England stands the Willow fair 
 With sea green leaf, such is the Olive there ; 
 Amid these rural villages they stand, 90 
 
 To grace the aspect of a fruitful land. 
 
 " Few are the idle hours we here employ, 
 And short the scene of contemplative joy: 
 Not as the painter or the traveller tame, 
 But bent on deeds of war we hither came ; 
 
62 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 While Britons will our gallant feats extol, 
 
 From fair Oporto far beyond Ferrol. 
 
 These acts shall rouse the continent to arms, 
 
 And break their midnight dreams with loud alarms ; 
 
 Full well we held them oft before in fear, 100 
 
 When, in a former cruise, we thunder'd here ; 
 
 Even harmless fishermen, that near us drew, 
 
 Hail'd 'The Minerva' — well our ship they knew! 
 
 Sir George's keel could ne'er reluctant stay, 
 
 But led us active to the daring fray : 
 
 Amid the foe where forts and cannon frown, 
 
 He gain'd himself, his chiefs, and men, renown. 
 
 " Now here, as westward first we stretch'd way, 
 A sail in-shore is seen, at break of day. 
 To guide the ship near shore, the rocks to shun, 110 
 A wise and skilful chief is Robinson, 
 Our master; he the morning watch commands,! 
 
 * Make sail/ he orders, and ' on deck all hands* 
 
 * All hands, ahoy V the boatswain loudly ston 
 His voice brings up the sailor bands in swamyp 
 The bending shrouds are peopled thick and 
 The loosen'd yards their canvass wings let 
 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 63 
 
 The fore and main tacks 4 rattling swift descend, 
 The topsails, staysails 5 , royals, all extend 
 So quick, that they th' effect of magic gave, 120 
 | To bend the stooping masts along the wave : 
 fhile foams the dancing surge, dash'd far before, 
 Till all the passing ocean seems to roar. 
 
 ' As thus our nimble vessel onward flew, 
 Enlarging in the trembling Spaniard's view, 
 Onward impell'd at once by hope and fear 
 Close by the rocks, they for a battery steer. 
 Ardent the race, and glorious is the prize, 
 For which the lugger and the frigate tries. 
 That seeks to clear the point, and harbour gain, 130 
 And this to catch her helpless in the main. 
 Heaven gave the Spaniard all his heart's desire, 
 And saved him from the terrors of our fire ; 
 For distant round the point we see him turn, 
 And to our rattling shot present his stern ; 
 Safe in the shelter'd harbour now he lies, 
 While* shoreward turn'd, Sir George's anxious eyes 
 Look longing on the battery and the prize. 
 So glares the lordly lion from his den, 
 At fairs when showmen in a neighbouring pen 140 
 
 
64 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Expose the antelope : his eyes gleam rage, 
 
 He meditates the spring to burst his cage. 
 
 So meditates our chief to tear away, 
 
 Even from the port, the scarcely rescued prey ! 
 
 In vain ! for yonder now, as oft before, 
 
 We see the furnace heating on the shore ; 
 
 And while all round their shot both ring and tell, 
 
 The spray-dash'd water smoked where'er they fell. 
 
 " But, ere we leave this half-moon-fort, a shoal 
 Of coast-guard gunboats hasten from Ferrol ; 150 
 And, as around the south-east point we drew, 
 The thunder of their cannon louder grew, 
 Until a stronger breeze disturbs the main, 
 And, dashing on, we drive them in again. 
 Then, light as azure clouds, we distant see 
 Corunna with its lighthouse on our lee. 
 Due south that town and lofty building bore, 
 When for the sea awhile we leave the shore. 
 Sir George expects that from Columbia's land 
 Two Spanish frigates seek Corunna's strand ; 160 
 Now in their track off Finisterre he lies, 
 And patiently awaits the golden prize, 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 05 
 
 But disappointment still his wishes find, 
 
 He meets with nought but rain and gales of wind. 
 
 Then, soon as fairer skies upon us smile, 
 
 He anchors in the harbour near an isle, 
 
 Ionzo call'd, with broom and shrubs overspread, 
 
 And pasture green, where nimble steeds are fed. 
 
 An ample store of wood from thence we bring, 
 
 And fill our casks with water from a spring; 170 
 
 Then, ere from hence again our sails enlarge, 
 
 We try our desperate fortune in the barge. 
 
 " Our custom was, when here we cruised before, 
 For each lieutenant, then by turns on shore, 
 In every prowl afar to give command, 
 And in those circuits guide the midnight band. 
 This custom now to young Fitz Frederic gave 
 The perils of this inshore coast to brave. 
 Now with an armed boat he bears away, 
 Dire scenes to act before the morning ray 180 
 
 Gives to the trembling shore the welcome light, 
 And shews what horrors have deform'd the night. 
 
 " Far up the bay, borne by a gentle breeze, 
 None else than frighted fishermen he sees : 
 
 F 
 
66 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Eight hours he coursed this unknown harbour round, 
 
 Nor yet the object of his wishes found; 
 
 No ship he sees, while frowns on high the land, 
 
 All comfortless, upon this daring band. 
 
 With awful silence hush'd the waves are still, 
 
 The howl of wolves is heard upon the hill ; 190 
 
 No moon, nor star, nor peaceful cottage light, 
 
 Can burst the solid darkness of the night ; 
 
 Far in impenetrable gloom they row, 
 
 Save when the lightning strikes the mountain's brow ; 
 
 The rising clouds in torrents pour the rain ; 
 
 And thunders grumble distant on the plain; 
 
 Until the morning meets their gazing eyes, 
 
 When close before them wondrous prospects rise. 
 
 A town appears, defenceless, on the strand, 
 
 Nor guns nor battery guard the naked land. 200 
 
 While from the beach, far up the hill on high, 
 
 The harmless fishermen affrighted fly ; 
 
 And, on the steep ascent and craggy road, 
 
 Each coward townsman groans beneath a load ; 
 
 High on their shoulders these their beds convey, 
 
 And women, goods, and children line the way. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Then on the summit of the height they turn. 
 And wait to see their pillaged houses burn. 
 
 " No thought like this the sons of peril have, 
 No coward actions here disgrace the brave : 210 
 As soon as on the shore Fitz Frederic lands, 
 Amazed at such a coward foe he stands : 
 Not like the Spaniards of Peruvian fame, 
 Or Cortes' bands, these bear no glorious name — 
 For while along the street our sailors stride, 
 Some dastard soldiers there were seen to hide ; 
 And when our prowling crew the wine cask find, 
 These despicable wretches stoop behind ; 
 Our tars, regardless, ample draughts apply, 
 And all their fainting appetite supply. 220 
 
 Then, summon'd by their chieftain to the chace, 
 They swiftly dash among a swinish race 
 That feed in droves ; while, laughing o'er the fun, 
 The merry sailors and their victims run. 
 No other blood than squeaking hogs/ they spill, 
 And soon their boat they with provision fill; 
 Then from the beach they bear her off again, 
 And trust their future fortune to the main. 
 f2 
 
(>B THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 " Nor far they row before the breezes bring 
 A sail, and fate hangs hovering on the wing. 230 
 Advancing shoreward, sudden through the haze 
 Our chief the welcome stranger now surveys : 
 He clearly makes him out a rowboat arm'd, 
 Who seems at our intruding barge alarm'd ; 
 Or, hesitating yet, he waits to know 
 Whether he sees a friend or desperate foe ; 
 For rigg'd in fair disguise, with latteen sails, 
 A Spanish flag and cloths along her wales, 
 With rakish masts, and long projecting prore, 
 She seem'd an armed vessel from the shore. 240 
 Drawn nearer yet, his doubtful eyes inquire, 
 Till in advance the Britons briskly fire. 
 Far sweep their oars, determined as they row, 
 Stem on, upon this wavering cruiser's bow. 
 Soon with huzza their chief a match applies, 
 And o'er the boats a cloudy column flies ; 
 The thunder rolls along the trembling wave, 
 And chills with momentary fear the brave. 
 A rattling chain-shot all our canvass tore, 
 While from Fitz Frederic's head the hat it bore; 250 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 60 
 
 Yet, unappaird with dread, he loudly cheers, 
 And, steady and collected, onward steers. 
 Their gun is answer'd quickly from the barge, 
 The bowmen, too, their carronade discharge. 
 The Spaniards then retreat behind their sails, 
 Their chieftain's noisy order nought avails ; 
 For when, with cutlass drawn, our men arise, 
 His coward band from the first boarder flies ; 
 All trembling to the hatchways now they go, 
 And, struck with horror, quickly dive below. 260 
 
 " Let those who o'er the page of glory burn, 
 Here for a moment moral lessons learn, 
 That, when the news of gallant fights they read, 
 Their hearts may lend a sigh for those who bleed. 
 But tender nymphs, whose youths are in the war, 
 Turn from this cutting scene your eyes afar. 
 To statesmen who the helm of nations hold, 
 This agonizing tale need ne'er be told ; 
 They can the groans of dying thousands hear, 
 And through the wreck of armies smiling steer. 270 
 
 " Though in the war these Spaniards bravely roam, 
 Yet kindred feelings can endear their home; 
 
70 THE FATE OF MYRA, 
 
 The hours of leisure they full oft employ 
 
 In soft affection, and parental joy — 
 
 Such was their chief, — brave, with a feeling mind, 
 
 A tender husband, and a father kind. 
 
 With wounds all streaming, now on deck he lies, 
 
 And rolls with anguish round his dying eyes. 
 
 Deep in his back the leaden torment stood, 
 
 The fountain of his heart gush'd forth a flood ; 280 
 
 On his pale visage rose such chilling dew 
 
 As streams of pity from the victors drew. 
 
 Nor does retreating life his soul impair, 
 
 He darts a fiVd and agonizing stare 
 
 Upon his much-loved boy, sad victim too, 
 
 Who near his aged father frantic drew ! 
 
 Pierced through his beauteous face beneath the eye, 
 
 The purple tides of life his raiment dye : 
 
 A musket ball the splinter'd cheek-bone broke, 
 
 And shuddering nature numb'd beneath the stroke. 
 
 Dire pangs, far worse than sorrows, o'er them roll, 
 
 And whelm in speechless agony the soul; 292 
 
 Writhing in pain, with groans and tears, they lie 
 
 Clasp'd in each others firm embrace, and die ! 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 71 
 
 " Oh cruel War ! where can my memory stray, 
 Through valiant actions of the battle day, 
 And not my brother messmate always see 
 Consigned to everlasting night by thee ! 
 Tis thine to yield thy servants this reward, 
 Their bravest friends the victims of thy sword ! 300 
 Though 'tis not mine here rashly to inquire 
 Why burns so vast a devastating fire, 
 Like Etna's flames reflecting from the skies 
 To where old Ocean's farthest waves arise ; 
 Yet, cursed War! Humanity must tell 
 Who lit thy fires the first, first lit his torch in hell ! 
 
 " Now, while these melancholy scenes impart 
 Deep sighs of pity to Fitz Frederic's heart, 
 His crew commit their bodies to the main, 
 And lay this vessel's head their ship to gain; 310 
 The barge, then towing, at the stern is tied, 
 Until they reach the brave Minerva's side. 
 
 " For conquest eager still, Sir George now gave 
 The word to hoist his anchor o'er the wave. 
 Our sails all set, and from this harbour clear, 
 For Finisterre's tall cape once more we steer. 
 
72 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Our captain then proposed the warlike deed 
 
 That calls at night a chief the boats to lead. 
 
 In order next devolves on Theodore 
 
 The task to storm a fort and town on shore. 320 
 
 u Now far away from land our vessel flies, 
 That no suspicion in the foe arise ; 
 But soon as darkness hides us from their sight 
 In shore we stand, and thank the welcome night ! 
 c All hands out boats!* the boatswain's thundering cry 
 Proclaims on deck — the topmen mount on high ; 
 The tackles from aloft descend amain; 
 The falls 6 alike confess the powerful strain. 
 All stamping fore and aft they walk away, 
 High hangs the launch, fast by the yard and stay. 330 
 The yards * let go, the nimble tackles run, 
 Then meet the wave, descending one by one, 
 Four boats, of which the bravest chief has charge, 
 The pinnace, cutter, launch, and gallant barge. 
 All arm'd with tomahawk and cutlass, then 
 Away they sail, mann'd with one hundred men. 
 
 * The yard tackles. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 73 
 
 A little fleet, with spirits high, they steer 
 
 Where raised the lights of Finisterre appear, 
 
 The destination of their dread career. 
 
 In silence, from the town a mile, they land ; 340 
 
 The chief in two divisions forms his band : 
 
 Our Theodore was first; and, in the rear, 
 
 Raymond with the marines was marching near. 
 
 But Raymond's marching orders here were vain, 
 
 No line, no order, keeps the sailor train: 
 
 As well the huntsman might command his hounds 
 
 To form amid the chace o'er tainted grounds. 
 
 The way to danger they with ardour find, 
 
 And, heedless, leave the soldiers far behind ; 
 
 Nor yet the chief their swiftness can restrain 350 
 
 Till the high cannon of the fort they gain. 
 
 <e Amid the clouds and darkness of the night 
 Dim shone the lofty watch-tower's glimmering light; 
 Still silence reigns above, suspense below ; 
 The scouts are out, another road to know, 
 While, restless, here the sailors murmuring stay, 
 Impatient for the fight to burst away. 
 No road is found : the chieftains now prepare 
 To scale the lofty walls o'er crags in air. 
 
74 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Upon a jutting rock two ladders stand, 360 
 
 Then mounts aloft the daring sailor band. 
 
 u As in a southern clime, where sudden rise 
 The sounding hurricanes, and shake the skies, 
 Rush o'er the cultured vales with dreadful stride, 
 And pour the stream of desolation wide, 
 The negroes, rous'd 'mid ruin and affright, 
 Aghast survey the havoc of the night; 
 So came these boarders sudden on the foe, 
 Tumultuous from their embrasures below ! 
 The Spanish sentries, stiffen'd with dismay, 370 
 Defenceless stand, nor can escape away. 
 * Oh English ! prisoners we yield !' they cry — 
 The sailors burst along, unheeding, by : 
 The chief their mad career can scarce restrain, 
 To wait and spike the battery's murderous train. 
 Still rattling on, they next a passage find 
 Where guns are pointed down, with guards behind. 
 Assembling in one mass, all ready there, 
 This ardent band to storm them now prepare. 
 Dire is the task ! dark fate hangs o'er the way, 380 
 No time for doubtful converse or delay ! 
 
THE FATE OF MTRA. 75 
 
 Three cheers they shout ! the rocks return the roar! 
 Like lightning then between the walls they pour. 
 The cutlass glimmers on the Spaniards' sight, 
 The bravest from their guns are put to flight; 
 Nor dared they wait to fire the slumbering grain, 
 That might have piled the ground with heaps of slain. 
 Far in the shades of night they disappear, 
 Nor once impede the sailors' wild career. 
 
 " And now the British triumph round the bay, 390 
 The glory of success along the way 
 Proclaim the shouts of long and loud huzza ! 
 Heard is the tumult of their rattling arms, 
 Amid the shrieks of women's shrill alarms, 
 Through Finisterre, defended now no more, 
 But open to the harbour and the shore. 
 All singing, shouting, through the vacant town, 
 They thunder at the doors, and hasten down 
 Until the fleet of chasse marees they reach, 
 And safe assemble on the sandy beach. 400 
 
 u The vessels in the harbour then they board, 
 With fruit and wine, delicious cargos, stored. 
 All easy prizes, four and twenty sail, 
 They hoist their canvass to the willing gale. 
 
76 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Then, off the land, they meet their boats again, 
 And steer all unmolested to the main. 
 
 " When o'er the hills the morning beams arise 
 This little fleet salutes our wondering eyes. 
 Down in the hold we stow the welcome store 
 Of fruit and wine, till we can stow no more; 410 
 Then all the useless casks we split and stave, 
 Till purple torrents dye the azure wave. 
 The spars and sails, and cordage stow'd away, 
 With heaps of wood, comes on the close of day : 
 We then, with torch and tar, the ocean light 
 With four and twenty fires throughout the night : 
 Before the wind these wrecks all blazing fly, 
 And constant flames illuminate the sky. 
 
 " Now down the hostile coast again we steer, 
 Till Ortugal's tall heights afar appear ; 420 
 
 Then, hauling off the land awhile, we see 
 The admiral of this station on our lee. 
 Prompt to his signal given our ship attends, 
 Which to Oporto the Minerva sends 
 To purchase bullocks for his fleet, nor stay, 
 But hasten to this cape without delay. 
 Sir George obeys, but first in Muros bay 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 77 
 
 Intends upon the Spaniards once to fall, 
 And then, as ordered, visit Portugal. 
 
 " This news was told him by a trivial prize, 430 
 That in yon bay a guardship gunboat lies. 
 To cut her out, guide of the daring band, 
 In right of turn, he takes himself command. 
 The third lieutenant led the former train, 
 Our captain then, the war begins again. 
 No menial act, no very trivial meed, 
 Calls him in daring fight his men to lead 
 With muffled oars. Sir George was in the barge; 
 The cutter tows a-head, the master's charge. 
 Now 'mid the dark-blue, foggy, rainy night 440 
 
 They row, nor moon nor star instructs their sight. 
 Afar they in this sombre stillness steer, 
 At length the Tambre's fresher waves appear. 
 The cutter then cast off, she pulls away, 
 She boards a boat and brings her down the bay. 
 They then command the boatman to say where 
 This gunboat lies, and safely bring them there. 
 The trembling captive, overwhelmed with dread, 
 To where the vessel rode our warriors led. 
 
7B THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 The boats had passed their destination wide, 450 
 And measure back four miles along the tide ; 
 Their oars all dashing now the Spaniards hear, 
 And loudly hail before the danger's near, 
 Till bursting through the fog, the boats appear ! 
 
 " The barge was first, but as the cable grew 
 Wide of her bow, and with the tide they flew, 
 Sir George run foul ; a moment he must stay, 
 Across her moorings while exposed he lay. 
 Elated then the Spaniards forward run, 
 To point into the boat their ponderous gun; 460 
 And thrice they snapp'd the lock ; but, wet with rain, 
 No death-fraught flash sprung from the nitrous grain. 
 The cutter nimbly charged them in the rear, 
 While now the barge is from the cable clear ; 
 High o'er the starboard side they shout and board, 
 But find the Spaniards flinching from the sword ; 
 This dastard crew surrender on their knees, 
 And leave Sir George to take his prize with ease. 
 
 " Well for our boats her captain was not there, 
 Or ill for some had been the desperate fare. 470 
 A skilful chief, assiduous, stern and brave, 
 Late in the midnight watch he went ; but gave 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 79 
 
 His second captain charge to fight, if e'er 
 The long expected English dared appear. 
 Sir George determined, as no flash had given 
 Alarm, nor slumber from yon shore was driven, 
 From hence now by a trembling prisoner led, 
 To land, and seize their captain in his bed. 
 " Up from the sandy shore a chosen band 
 March, with their gallant leader on the land. 480 
 The guardship's chieftain's house they then surround, 
 And plant their centries in his garden ground. 
 Roused from the balmy slumbers of the night, 
 The owner first attempts a desperate flight ; 
 For, when he saw the Britons at his gate, 
 He guess'd their errand and his vessel's fate. 
 Swift from a woodshed, through a hedge of yew, 
 And o'er a wall, the Spanish captain flew. 
 Full in his van our armed guards appear, 
 And glittering sabres lighten in his rear. 490 
 
 With loaded pistols pointed at his head, 
 Down to the beach the prisoner now is led. 
 His beauteous wife, awoke with wild affright, 
 Far on the road surveys the cutting sight : 
 
80 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Half-naked, frantic, from the house she flies, 
 With tears incessant raining from her eyes; 
 Then, on her bending knees, this lovely fair 
 Unto Sir George prefers a fruitless prayer. 
 The chief commands a momentary stay, 
 That fills with lamentable sighs the way ; 500 
 
 A long embrace she gave him on the shore, 
 Then parts, to yield a fond embrace no more. 
 Swift through the roaring surf the war boat flies, 
 And soon the chieftain boards again his prize : 
 Cut from her moorings, swift she ploughs the main, 
 Till the Minerva safe they reach again, 
 
 " Borne smoothly, on a soft and gentle gale, 
 Sweeps o'er the wave the swelling studding-sail 7 ; 
 St. Johns fair hills arise, and on the shore 
 Is heard the surfs long, hollow, rumbling roar. 510 
 A range of cable overhaul'd we stand 
 Fast by the anchor, verging to the land, 
 And, satiate with repose, we hope to gain 
 Oblivion from the hardships of the main. 
 
 " In vain ! for sable night's imperial sway 
 Brings forth a row boat cruiser for his prey ; 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 81 
 
 Fired by the sight of what he wished a prize, 
 
 Full on our frigate, much-deceived he flies. 
 
 For rigged in an array to them unknown, 
 
 We seem a bark ; our mizen-top sent down, 520 
 
 No topsail aft, or lofty yard before, 
 
 With canvass poop, like merchant ship all o'er. 
 
 Thus he's decoyed. At length he counts our guns, 
 
 And, turning round, the dastard nimbly runs. 
 
 Our thundering bow-guns then in haste we ply, 
 
 Their iron messengers impetuous fly, 
 
 Till, useless these, with bending oars amain, 
 
 A greater distance still he seems to gain. 
 
 All hands we summon to the tackle falls, 
 
 The boats arise, obedient to the calls*. 530 
 
 Then, with all arms complete for desperate fray, 
 
 The cutter and the barge we lower away. 
 
 My dirk and pistols into one I fling ; 
 
 Each man secures his arms ; away we spring ; 
 
 With forward lean, and one prodigious strain, 
 
 Strike all at once our bending oars the main. 
 
 * Boatswain's whistles. See note, Part iv. 
 G 
 
82 THE FATET OF MYRA. 
 
 True to their time the steady strokesmen keep ; 
 
 At once the rullux 8 sound along the deep ; 
 
 At every pull together all arise, 
 
 Each darting boat accelerated flies. 540 
 
 High o'er the rest, the coxswains in the stern, 
 
 Can far ahead the flying foe discern; 
 
 Nor yet we gain ; for still an equal space 
 
 Maintains the galley through the doubtful chace ; 
 
 Lost in the breakers then they're seen no more, 
 
 Until the boats approach the foaming shore ; 
 
 Her long dark hull, amid the bursting main, 
 
 Far in the roaring surf is seen again ; 
 
 And, while the howling surges o'er them fly, 
 
 We hear a long and loud distressing cry. 550 
 
 With pity fired, resolved the foe to save, 
 
 A tow-line to the cutter then I gave ; 
 
 To her a lengthened coil of rope we veer, 
 
 And for these white and angry waters steer. 
 
 When near the rocks, the boats immediate turn, 
 
 The cutter on her oars, we back astern ; 
 
 And, midst these fatal terrors of the main, 
 
 The ruined vessel's rending side we gain. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 83 
 
 " My crew on board, the boats then pull away, 
 Till clear beyond the surf awhile they stay ; 560 
 Nor can the foe our presence here sustain, 
 Driven by their fears, all plunging in the main, 
 Borne through the dashing swell, tremendous o'er 
 The rocky deep, they reach the sandy shore. 
 To fire her, then, I strive without delay, 
 An arduous task amid such clouds of spray; 
 For every roll the heaving vessel gave, 
 Her trembling deck was buried in the wave. 
 Needless my task. Her crew had lit the flame, 
 That from beneath with crackling fury came. 570 
 The smoke burst forth, uprolling in a cloud, 
 While our approaching boats I hail aloud. 
 ' You bargemen ! hasten here without delay ; 
 To save our lives, you cutters there, give-way* ; 
 Her powder will anon the bark destroy; 
 The fire begins to scorch ; the boats ahoy P 
 Prompt were their efforts, darting bravely here, 
 While from on high the rocks beneath appear, 
 
 * Give-way, is a sea term, commanding the rowers to give the 
 boat more way through the water. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Till dash'd upon the ground with riven sides, 
 The barge is towed a wreck upon the tides. 580 
 Nor hope to gain the boats ! plunged in the foam, 
 High o'er my head the mountain billows roam ! 
 The wreck, the rocks, the waves appear again ! 
 To reach the shore I strive, and swim amain, 
 Till with my feet I firmly feel the sand ; 
 Surrounded by my crew upon the land. 
 
 "But soon as ere we march along this coast, 
 To bar our passage comes a shouting host. 
 With bill-hook, pitch-fork, scythe, and missile spear, 
 The mob all arm'd for dreadful fray appear. 590 
 Infuriate they my little crew surround, 
 Twelve sturdy Britons on a rising ground : 
 No more than yonder rocks these boors can tame 
 Their valour, burning with indignant flame. 
 To curb their ire I storm, command, and pray, 
 ' Touch not these peasants on your lives/ 1 say. 
 I shout aloud again. ' No wish have we 
 To fight or harm in war the Portugee !' 
 Intreaty or command can nought avail, 599 
 
 They bawl, they charge, their scythes our legs assail! 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 85 
 
 High o'er these weapons springing from the ground, 
 
 My men, like hunted lions, on them bound. 
 
 With thirsty rage the cutlass lightens high, 
 
 Where'er it flashes all the dastards fly ; 
 
 At every blow red veiny currents pour, 
 
 Till the green grass is black with angry gore. 
 
 " So, while around the royal tiger's den 
 Roars the grim war of dogs and armed men, 
 The monarch s of the jungle couch and spring, 
 With gory fangs they tear the shouting ring ; 610 
 The cowards fly — they seize, they rend the brave, 
 And strew with slaughter all the reeking cave. 
 
 " Thus fought my men, well worthy of renown, 
 To shield our rapid march for yonder town. 
 The Corrijidor there we gladly meet, 
 With all his guards assembled in the street. 
 He quells the noisy clamour of this train, 
 While I against the Spaniards loud complain, 
 Who fired with rage the peaceful hamlets round, 
 To soil with blood of friends their neutral ground. 
 
 " The noble magistrate with ire commands 621 
 His men to seize the lawless ruffian bands. 
 
8t> THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 From him a pass for all I then obtain, 
 Along the road, Oporto safe to gain. 
 We silent march, far on the lonely way, 
 Till on the Douro's friendly banks we stay. 
 Our raiment dry, we then from rest arise, 
 Soon as the morning lights the eastern skies. 
 With the first boat we leave this pleasant town, 
 That for our ship now glides the river down ; 630 
 Safe o'er the bar 9 then reach the Atlantic main, 
 And joyous meet our friends on board again." 
 
 END OF THE THIRD PART. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA, 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 THE RETURN. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Adrian proceeds in the relation, and informs Herbert of the full 
 particulars of a gale of wind, which overtook their ship on her 
 way from Oporto to Cape Finisterre, driving her nearly across the 
 Bay, when she bore up, and, after narrowly escaping shipwreck on 
 the Berryhead, anchored safe in Torbay. — They then sail with the 
 channel fleet, look into Brest harbour, and proceed to the station 
 assigned them by the admiral, oft" L' Orient. The ship then passes 
 between the Isle de Groaix and Port Louis, and anchors under 
 Penfret, one of the Glenan islands. He relates their employment 
 and diversions on shore, and finally their preparing to sail for 
 Etel, where the melancholy catastrophe occurred which gave rise 
 to the subject of the poem. — Myra at that instant, coming in from 
 the garden, and seeing her father in tears, first feels the sharp 
 arrows of apprehension : her apprehension is more and more con- 
 firmed by the silence of Theodore's most intimate friend — and 
 having neither power nor courage to interrogate— the acute sen- 
 sibility of her mind completely overpowering her animal frame, 
 she faints in her father's arms and expires. 
 
THE 
 
 FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 Whom when I saw resolved in arms to fall, 
 And that one spirit animated all, 
 Brave souls! said I, but brave alas! in vain, 
 Come finish what our cruel fates ordain ! 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 "Already round the ship the boats we find, 
 Stored with provisions of the lowing kind; 
 We hoist them by the horns ; then in the waist 
 Between the guns each struggling bullock's placed. 
 While sing on high the rising breezes fair, 
 Our tackling all aloft we then prepare ; 
 But, ere the anchor leaves its oozy bed, 
 Or topsails and topgallant sails are spread, 
 
90 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 On shore we all convivially resort, 
 To taste their famous Entre-Douro port. 10 
 
 The hearty thanks of all the merchants there 
 For the wrecked row-boat then we grateful share, 
 Which, off this harbour, often spoil'd their gain, 
 And many an English vessel sent to Spain. 
 With welcome viands they supply our board, 
 And with delicious fruits the ship is stored. 
 
 " Then by the halliards, up the slippery mast, 
 The topsails rise, with sheets and braces fast ; 
 The foresail spreads, with cordage unconfined, 
 Its wide extended surface to the wind. 20 
 
 A north-west course, awhile, to clear the land, 
 With a long swell, and stormy skies, we stand ; 
 Sure indication this, as sailors tell, — 
 Upon so vast a sea a sudden swell — 
 Although perhaps a thousand miles before, 
 A tempest strides the wide Atlantic o'er. 
 Nor wrong we judge ; twelve leagues we scarcely sail 
 Before the singing shrouds proclaim a gale ; 
 Its weight aloft the shortened topsails feel, 
 While now, on deck, two hands attend the wheel ; 30 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 91 
 
 On high, the three topgallant yards descend, 
 We lash the driver, and the trysail bend 1 ; 
 The yards are trussed 2 , and to the masts confined, 
 She rolls, all lonely, scudding from the wind. 
 More elevated now the waves arise, 
 And swifter still the bounding vessel flies : 
 As scours the affrighted steed along the plain, 
 Hangs his long ears and spurns the ground amaiu, 
 So scud we, till the Cape's high hills we view : 
 The watch is then called up, to lay her to 3 . 40 
 
 " The topsail clew-lines forward now are mann'd, 
 While in the top 4 the sailors crowded stand, 
 The sheets let go, the buntlines feel the strain, 
 High o'er the yard the canvass swells amain ; 
 Along the footropes 5 all the topmen stride, 
 Or fearless down the lifts 6 more nimble glide : 
 They muster there, a thick and busy line, 
 With outspread arms the canvass to confine ; 
 Securely folded, then their gaskets tie, 
 And the fore-topsail snugly furl on high. 50 
 
 Down on the fore-yard-arms they next repair, 
 To hand the other sail with equal care. 
 
92 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Then moves the helm, the spokes to starboard turn; 
 The wheelropes round their glowing axle burn. 
 Assembles all abaft the afterguard, 
 To brace sharp up the main and topsail-yard ; 
 The maintop-bowline strains the leach 7 before, 
 Again to windward turns her flying prore ; 
 Then howls the storm, while deep the vessel heels, 
 And, downward borne, its tenfold rage she feels. 60 
 
 " As first the hunted gazelle o'er the ground, 
 At distance leaves, all impotent, the hound ; 
 But, tired at length, her limbs refuse to fly, 
 And now behind she hears at once the cry 
 Of huntsman, hound and horn, a sanguine war 
 Of wild destruction rushing from afar ; 
 So when at first the vessel spread her sail 
 With ease she danced on high before the gale, 
 Swift as yon waves retreating from the wind, 
 While ineffectual burst the seas behind ; 70 
 
 But, when hove-to, across her trembling form 
 Sweeps the perpetual torrent of the storm. 
 
 " Now up the trysail-mast 8 the sail ascends, 
 While to the sheet each ready sailor bends; 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 93 
 
 Then, to the rattling block abaft confined, 
 
 This humble sail is balanced behind. 
 
 As down the watery mountain swift she slides, 
 
 Her pitching head the foaming waves divides ; 
 
 Now in the vale, all motionless, she lies, 
 
 Till to the clouds approaching hills arise; 80 
 
 Then once more, on a rough and towering sea, 
 
 Her bending masts hang far along the lee ; 
 
 Trembling on high, until the weather roll, 
 
 Met by the lofty topsail, owns control. 
 
 " While drifting to the coast of Spain we drew, 
 Fierce from the west-south-west this tempest blew. 
 No line of battle ship as yet we meet, 
 Nor any vessels of the admiral's fleet. 
 To look for him, no more employs our care, 
 Too near the cape, our business is to wear 9 . 90 
 
 'All hands, wear ship, ahoyV a solemn sound, 
 Three times disturbs the hollow decks around. 
 Roused from beneath at this unwelcome cry, 
 With anxious brows the seamen look on high 
 To learn if yet that sail resists the strain IO , 
 On which their every hope must now remain. 
 
94 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Ill-fated sail ! like thunders from a cloud, 
 Ere long thy ruin must be heard aloud. 
 
 ei The bell struck one, the midnight watch began, 
 When to their station every sailor ran. 100 
 
 Down the long trysail-mast the sail they haul, 
 While forward sings aloud the boatswain's call 11 ; 
 To that shrill note, along the slippery stay, 
 The loosened staysail then they hoist away ; 
 The helm hard up, the braces they prepare, 
 And lay the main and after yards all square. 
 True to the movement of the wheel she veers, 
 No longer on her beam the gale appears; 
 Borne o'er long curling heights, released she flies, 
 Heights that expend their fury in the skies ! 110 
 
 " As when o'er Samothracian hills the god* 
 Of ocean to the Grecian battle trod, 
 Three ample strides o'er every mountain's brow, 
 To where the distant Mgvt shook below, 
 He took — high in his car, then loosed the rein, 
 And far outstripp'd the monsters of the main; 
 
 * Neptune. 
 
THE FATE OF MYIiA. 95 
 
 So bounds our flying frigate o'er the deep, 
 
 While all on deck their watch attentive keep. 
 
 Haul down the staysail forward there, we cry; 
 
 Then to the trysail aft again they hie. 120 
 
 To the main brace the seamen next repair, 
 
 The lofty canvass now is all our care. 
 
 Gradual we veer ; again revolves the wheel, 
 
 A pressure aft the ship begins to feel ; 
 
 And as she flanks again the roaring gale, 
 
 We haul the bowline out to fill the sail. 
 
 Too late the leach is strain'd, it lifts again ; 
 
 Shook in the wind, the topsail rends amain ; 
 
 Far o'er the leeward wave the fragments fly, 
 
 And havoc reigns destructive all on high. 130 
 
 " Not half so dreadful was the Victory's fire, 
 When the great Nelson opened all his ire; 
 When his artillery lighten'd from afar, 
 And thunders shook the shores of Trafalgar. 
 Nor yet when, from some cloud electric driven, 
 Down an enormous oak the bolt of heaven, 
 While frighten'd woodmen shudder all around, 
 Shivers the tree, and rocks the solid ground. 
 
96 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 But here description's highest powers would fail 
 To show the direful terrors of the gale ; 140 
 
 While loudly thunders now the splitting sail. 
 
 " 'Topmen aloft V that summons they obey, 
 And fearless mount on high the hempen way. 
 The captains I2 claim the bunt, each near the tie 13 , 
 The lee beneath the windward cling on high; 
 While every lurch the labouring vessel gave 
 She dipp'd her main-yard deeper in the wave. 
 Roll'd on the yard, the weather side is furled, 
 High o'er their heads the leeward sail is hurled, 
 All flapping, thumping, furious and loud, 150 
 
 It drives the wounded topmen to the shroud ; 
 Nine times thus beaten from the yard again, 
 These weary sailors in the top remain. 
 Where now is he that moves with regal fame, 
 His crowned heads protracting long the game? 
 Your men, your draft-boards I4 all neglected lay, 
 And fled are all the merry smiles of play. 
 The bravest huddled down to leeward keep, 
 In this lone platform hanging o'er the deep \ 
 Their arms the weather lanniards I5 some enfold, 160 
 Beneath the mast some by the rigging hold ; 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 97 
 
 Long dreary waves successive pass below, 
 And flashing hills I6 around alternate glow. 
 Shivering, and nearly drowned, they thus on high 
 Sustain the pelting torrents of the sky, 
 And while, all comfortless, they there remain, 
 Rolls the strain'd top right-angles from the main. 
 
 " See from the deck along the misty view, 
 Like some high frowning mountain, nearer grew 
 A lofty sea; the curl was heard aloud, 170 
 
 White was the summit like some radiant cloud; 
 Sublime and awful, dancing to the skies, 
 It breaks, descends, and o'er the vessel flies. 
 Drives the shrill deluge, bursting far and wide, 
 Convulsive all along her shuddering side : 
 Torn are the iron stanchions I7 with their rails, 
 It roars through all the launch's planks and wales*; 
 Nor less she feels it in the floating waist, 
 There all that meets its fury is displaced. 
 Through all the riven ports it spreads below, 180 
 The bullocks thundering down to leeward go; 
 
 * Gun-wales. 
 H 
 
98 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 With broken limbs, and dreadful bruises sore, 
 Loud in the storm is heard their piteous roar. 
 'Cut the port-lanniards ,8 ! stretch your axes here! 
 Stave all the ports, and see the scuppers lg clear !' 
 'Tis thus we shout. And now the waters fly ; 
 Again, released, she reels o'er hills on high, 
 And through the naked masts and trembling shroud 
 Sings the fell storm, with dreary notes more loud. 
 
 " Thus in Columbia, when the tempests sweep 190 
 A bending forest on the mountain's steep, 
 Scared from repose the wolf forgets his prey, 
 The woods confess the terrors of their sway; 
 Torn from each branch, aloft the foliage flies ; 
 Dark showers of leaves obscure the angry skies : 
 The trembling Indian from his wigwam sees 
 A stooping broken mass of naked trees; 
 While 'inid the storm is heard, from cedars tall, 
 The far resounding thunders of their fall. 199 
 
 " Fast by the bulwarks 20 now two seamen stay, 
 They watch to windward o'er the watery way, 
 Lest, bounding onward o'er the raging deep, 
 Before the wind some ship her course may keep 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 99 
 
 Full on us ; then no succour should we gain, 
 But both might founder helpless in the main; 
 For, wrapp'd in cloudy mists, we scarce can see 
 One cable's length along the windward sea. 
 
 " Seven days in this relentless storm we lie, 
 Far drifting o'er the gulf of Gascony; 
 But when the eighth revolving morning crown'd 210 
 The day, and spread the light less hazy round, 
 Sir George * thus spoke, ' what boots it here to stay, 
 Rolling for weeks o'er this unruly bay ] 
 Our rapid course of leeway reaching near 
 To Ushant, soon the channel will appear. 
 When sinks the gale, long must we toil to gain 
 Once more the distant cape and shores of Spain ; 
 Then call the watch, our sails from hence we'll spread, 
 Nor furl them till we reach the Berryhead/ 
 So spoke the chief. The watch in haste prepare 220 
 The tangled ropes, and see all clear to wear. 
 
 * The officer here alluded to is Sir George Ralph Collier, under 
 whose command the Minerva was cruising some time on the coast 
 of Spain. The captain who commanded her on the coast of France 
 was Richard Hawkins, Esq. 
 
 H2 
 
100 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Up the fore staysail-stay the sail ascends, 
 
 And from the bending stay aloft distends ; 
 
 This forward sail she soon begins to feel ; 
 
 She veers apace, obedient to the wheel. 
 
 High o'er the yard the loosened foresail swells, 
 
 While many a foaming wave the flying ship impels. 
 
 Ahead, astern, amazed we see them rise, 
 
 With swell gigantic, towering to the skies ; 
 
 And while, pursued by the malignant storm, 230 
 
 Bounds o'er those curling heights her groaning form, 
 
 Swift as some bird along the aerial heaven 
 
 By the dread hawk accelerated driven, 
 
 When, straining all its pinions from the foe, 
 
 It darting shuns the meditated woe, 
 
 Even so the bounding vessel hurries o'er 
 
 Long bursting surges, howling on before. 
 
 fC Twelve hours thus scudding, distant on our lee, 
 Fair Ushant on the starboard bow we see ; 
 And while she thus pursues her arrowy flight 240 
 The Start appears, — a well known rocky height. 
 That pass'd we see no more : in haze profound 
 The cloudy night all gloomy spreads around. 
 
THE FATE OF MYEA. 101 
 
 Well for us that we saw yon point of land, 
 While, certain of our course, we safer stand 
 For the tall Berry head. Ahead it lies, 
 And tenfold faster now the frigate flies. 
 The land's obscured, but, glimmering on the height, 
 The barrack lights deceive our anxious sight. 
 While thus for them our erring course we steer, 250 
 And vainly think the admiral's lights appear, 
 Still bounding forward, like the winds our speed, 
 The land is not one cable's length ahead ! 
 ' Oh, port the helm 2I /' the master loudly calls — 
 The ship that instant from destruction hauls. 
 Forward she springs, far shooting for the bay, 
 As darts the hare pursued by dogs away. 
 High on the larboard side, tremendous sight ! 
 A cloud of spray ascends the rocky height ; 
 Recoiling from aloft, the waves again 260 
 
 Rage back! rebellows all the broken main. 
 Scared at this view our limbs all shake with fear ; 
 We just escape, and scarce the point we clear. 
 Close hauPd 2 \ then smoother up the bay we fly ; 
 We man the yards, and furl the sails on high, 
 
102 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 While mid the fleet, contiguous to the shore, 
 The ship extends, two cables from her prore, 
 Safe from the storm's loud ineffectual roar. 
 
 "When Winter spreads her spotless carpet round 
 The hills, and robes in dazzling light the ground, 
 While faithful friends and children with their sire, 
 Warm in their rooms, assemble round the fire, 272 
 Whose cheerful flames the rigorous season chase, 
 And show a social joy in every face; 
 Oh that some gifted bard, with rapture warm, 
 Would wake the lyre to sing the ruthless storm, 
 To tell the hardships that our sailors know, 
 While off this coast the wiutry tempests blow; 
 Till every Briton in our realm confess, 
 With sympathizing heart, their deep distress; 280 
 Till even our rulers, moved for once, may feel, 
 And act responsive to their just appeal ! 
 W T ould they but turn from military pride, 
 And in their only sure defence confide; 
 Would they but treat their tars with kindness due, 
 And such as would their drooping hopes renew, 
 Untempted still by fair Columbia's land 23 , 
 For ever in Old England's cause they'd stand. 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 103 
 
 " Now, while a calm succeeds the furious gale, 
 We next prepare with Lord Gambler to sail. 290 
 The channel fleet, the glory and the pride 
 Of Britain, moves majestic on the tide. 
 In one embattled line to sea they stand, 
 While on the admiral's warlike decks his band, 
 As round the lofty Berryhead they fly, 
 Sound the gay notes of martial melody. 
 With him we sail, till Ushant far again 
 Displays its well known lighthouse o'er the main. 
 In-shore then sent, for Brest we shape our way, 
 To learn if yet the French inactive stay. 300 
 
 This having ascertained, we then make sail 
 At his command, and run before the gale 
 To cruise off L/Orient and Quiberon, awhile, 
 Between the Glenan islands and Belle Isle. 
 High on Amelius Beauclerk's masts arise, 
 While we approach, our signal in the skies. 
 That noble Lord is here our commodore, 
 While o'er the fleet the Saturn — seventy-four — 
 Rides off this port, our senior on the main; 
 Majestic ruling our intrepid train. 310 
 
104 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Though vexed with waiting long, he yet must stay, 
 To tempt a far superior foe away. 
 
 " The wind was fair, the Gallic fleet in sight, 
 Groaix on our left, port Louis on the right; 
 While many a battery guards the hostile land, 
 Between the island and the main we stand. 
 Soon to their guns our joyous foes repair, 
 The smoke uprising darkens all the air; 
 Their whistling shot around us thickly fly, 
 Their flaming shells approaching mount the sky, 320 
 And bursting scatter terrors from on high: 
 Or, where they strike, the whirling waves display 
 A yawning gulf, or pyramids of spray. 
 But not their whizzing shot or flaming shell 
 Arrest our course; all inoffensive fell. 
 We count their ships beneath a press of sail; 
 And, steering out, those western waters hail 
 Where, stretched afar, the sheltering Glenan isles, 
 A rocky group, with pleasing verdure smiles. 
 And now the anchor dives from light away ; 330 
 We o'er the peaceful isle of Penfret stray, 
 Where, at the wells, a strong and active band 
 Supply our casks ; while some remove the sand 
 
THE FATE OF MYRA. 105 
 
 With unremitting labour, sweat and toil, 
 
 And pierce in search of grateful springs the soil. 
 
 Here also on a rise, with rural grace, 
 
 Extends a cleared and cultivated space ; 
 
 Expanded nets and palisadoes round 
 
 Enclose this chosen spot of garden ground ; 
 
 Our sailor gardeners all the borders fill, 340 
 
 And wide display the produce of their skill ; 
 
 While peas and beans, and every salad there, 
 
 With kale and useful roots, confess their care. 
 
 Fixed to the gate, a scarecrow clatters round, 
 
 And, with a varied though perpetual sound, 
 
 Affrights the sparrows from the new sown ground. 
 
 Assembled, too, upon a level green, 
 
 A merry band of cricketers are seen. 
 
 To bowl, or strike the far rebounding ball, 
 
 There muster seamen, officers and all. 350 
 
 Our captain, too, abaft the wicket stands, 
 
 And for the flying ball extends his hands. 
 
 In turn he wields the bat, nor e'er gives way, 
 
 Until superior notches gain the day. 
 
 Three weeks amused we joyous here remain, 
 
 Till hence we hoist our sails and weigh again, 
 
106 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 To seek that shore, where he, the valiant dead, 
 
 Oh friend ! near Etel's shallow waters bled ! 
 
 But yonder scenes disastrous I forego — 
 
 For what avails our tears again to flow, 360 
 
 Or twice to ope the streams of bleeding woe T ' 
 
 While to the cruise the silent sire gave ear, 
 His bosom throbb'd with many a pang severe. 
 And oft, absorb'd in melancholy mood, 
 He seem'd to hear, yet scarcely understood. 
 In vain the feeling chief essayed to chase 
 The wrinkled sorrows of his aged face ; 
 O'er his sad visage, marked with boding fear, 
 Burst all impatient still the crystal tear. 
 
 But now he starts, to gaze with ardour keen, 370 
 And strives to smile and wear a look serene; 
 For lovely Myra meets her father's eye, 
 With all the pleasing radiance of that sky 
 Where from a saffron cloud, celestial bright, 
 The morning star breaks lustrous on the sight. 
 From yon dark shrubs, along the short-mown lawn, 
 As skips o'er his own hills the graceful fawn, 
 Soft, light and gay, with sweet enchanting air, 
 Thus, all unconscious, came the smiling fair. 
 
THE FATE OF MYHA. 107 
 
 Ah! not unconscious long, unhappy maid ! 380 
 Soon fades the smile that o'er her features played ! 
 Too soon her penetrating glance could trace 
 The direful truth, in Herbert's mournful face; 
 With eager eye she turns, the chief to scan — 
 Sad are his looks, and mute is Adrian ! 
 Vain now her father's efforts to control 
 The mighty grief that rends his inmost soul; 
 Spite of himself, the bursting flood appears, 
 And his wan cheeks are wet with ceaseless tears. 
 
 Transfixed with agony the maiden stands, 390 
 While, firm as ice in adamantine bands 
 Congealed, no soft, relieving tear can flow, 
 To vent her deep unutterable woe ! 
 Thrice she essays to speak — but can no more 
 Than breathe in broken sounds, " My Theodore !" 
 
 But, hark ! what mean those sobs of sorrow loud, 
 Where weeping servants round their mistress crowd 1 
 Too plain the cause that wakes their sad alarms! 
 See ! Myra breathless in her father's arms ! 
 In vain her friends employ their anxious care; 400 
 Vain all their efforts ! vain a parent's prayer ! 
 
108 THE FATE OF MYRA. 
 
 Her eyes are dim, her lovely face is pale; 
 While, as from lilies morning dews exhale, 
 Mounts far aloft, on angels' wings away, 
 Her happy spirit, freed from mortal clay, 
 Oh Theodore ! to meet again thy sight, 
 Safe in the golden realms of everlasting light ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
NOTE S. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Note I, p. 3, Z. 2. 
 
 Harp of Arion ! thou that o'er the main 
 Didst pour the tale of death in sweetest strain. 
 
 The Shipwreck, by Falconer, who alludes to himself 
 under the name of Arion. 
 
 Note 2, p. 21, I 362. 
 Her rakish masts — 
 
 A ship's masts are said to rake when they lean forward 
 or aft. 
 
N O T E S. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Note 1,;?. 26, 7. 23. 
 
 Her royals, from the lofty yards reclined. 
 
 Royals are the highest sails generally set in a ship. 
 Skysails are sometimes set above them; but only in 
 very light winds. 
 
 Note 2,^. 27, I 37. 
 
 Her pennants travelling up his mizen rise, 
 While to his main the signal order flies. 
 
 There are two pennants, or long flags, applicable to 
 each ship in the navy, which denote her name. 
 
 When an admiral or commodore communicates his 
 commands, by signal, to any particular ship in his fleet, 
 he first, in order to excite her attention, hoists those 
 distinguishing pennants at the gaff, or to the mizen 
 mast-head. His telegraphic commands are then hoisted 
 at the main. 
 
NOTES ON PART II. Ill 
 
 Note 3, p. 27, I 46. 
 
 Till the main-top-sail curbs his furious way. 
 
 When sailing near the wind, if the main-yard is 
 braced square, or across the ship's length, it immediately 
 lays the main-top-sail aback, and effectually stops the 
 ship's progress. 
 
 Note 4, p. 27, I 47. 
 
 For, lo ! two vessels on the weather beam — 
 
 When any object is said to be abeam of a ship, it is 
 in a line with the main beam, or at right angles with her 
 keel. 
 
 Note 5, p. 29, I 93. 
 
 And Hodgson reign'd the conqueror of Belle-isle — 
 
 For particulars of the conquest of Belle-isle, in the 
 year 1762, by major-general Hodgson, see Barnard's 
 History of England, p. 646-647. 
 
 Note 6, p. 38, 1 272. 
 
 Next o'er the channels, up the shrouds they hie. 
 
 The channels, or chains, is the projection from the 
 ship's side, to which the lower part of the fore, main, 
 and mizen shrouds are fixed. 
 
 Note 7, p. 38, 7.273. 
 
 Release the gaskets 
 
 The gaskets are plaited cords, made of spun-yarn, 
 and fixed at certain distances on the yards. They serve 
 
112 NOTES ON PART II. 
 
 to secure the sails when they are furled, which is done 
 by being bound round the sail and yard, upward, and 
 slanting towards the mast. 
 
 Notes 8 and 9, p. 38, I 274. 
 Haul home the sheets, then at the halliards sway. 
 
 Sheets are ropes affixed to the clews or lower corners 
 of a sail, and are adjusted so as to confine the bunt or 
 belly of it to the wind. 
 
 All the sails in a ship are hoisted by means of ropes 
 called halliards, which are of different denominations, 
 according to the sails to which they belong: thus those 
 affixed to the top-sails are called topsail-halliards; those 
 fastened to the top-gallant-sails are called top-gallant- 
 halliards; those to the stay-sails stay-sail-halliards, &c. 
 
 Note 10, p. 38, I 275. 
 And on the fore-top-bowline haul away. 
 
 Bowlines are attached to the leech, or outside of the 
 courses, top-sails, top-gallant-sails, and royals; and 
 extended forward serve to keep the weather side from 
 shaking, when the ship is close hauled upon a wind. 
 
 Note U,p. 40, I 329. 
 Or send them cheerless on the stormy deep. 
 
 Being well aware that many may think the above 
 assertion erroneous, it may not be amiss here to state 
 
NOTES ON PART II. 113 
 
 my reason for making it. The following, among a variety 
 of others, may be deemed a sufficient one. 
 
 Sailors are often kidnapped, or, in other words, im- 
 pressed, and carried off in so hasty a manner that their 
 property and many of their clothes are left behind, and 
 irrecoverably lost. The ship they are forced on board 
 of sails on a six month's cruise. When she comes back, 
 the person so impressed, naturally when pay day arrives, 
 and the ship is ready to sail, goes up in his turn, expect- 
 ing to receive his wages : but, no! he is contemptuously 
 informed that it is customary to keep his first six month's 
 pay back, until he is discharged from the service. Much 
 chagrined at this intelligence, he returns to his birth, 
 and sits on a chest, with a disconsolate look at the soft 
 bread and other luxuries his comrades indulge in, until 
 out of the small pittance of their monthly pay he is 
 presented with a generous loan. If, however, his mess- 
 mates, like himself, happen to be aground, which is 
 often the case, after enduring many other privations, he 
 weathers the next cruise with the cheerless alternative 
 of receiving credit from the purser for his as-much-as- 
 possible avoided slops. In the meantime, there can 
 be no blame attached to the officers. It is their pride 
 to see the sailors well clothed and well paid; while 
 many of them think, especially the midshipmen, and 
 perhaps very justly, that some increase in their own 
 pay would not be improper. It is indeed revolting to 
 think that the greatest part of that useful class of young 
 officers have been turned adrift by their country, to 
 i 
 
114 NOTES ON PAUT IT. 
 
 starve in obscurity, or to lend their aid to our American 
 rivals, who are eagerly desirous to lay prostrate our 
 maritime greatness. 
 
 Note 12,^.44, Z. 413. 
 The stays and yards sustain 
 
 A stay is a stout rope, which being fastened to the 
 head of each mast and extended forward, is its principal 
 support. Shrouds to the lower masts, and back-stays 
 to the topmasts, top-gallant-masts, &c. serve to support 
 them behind. 
 
 Note 13, p. 45, I 443. 
 
 Four bells proclaim the middle watch half o'er. 
 
 There is a large bell on board each ship of war, 
 which strikes every half hour. When it strikes four 
 in the middle watch it is two o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Note 14, p. 51, Z.570. 
 
 A slave they forced him o'er the angry main. 
 
 As the word slave may be by some thought too harsh 
 a name to be applied to a subject of the king of Great 
 Britain, the author, one of those degraded Englishmen 
 who have tasted of the bitterness of impressment, 
 would beg leave only to ask them the plain question — 
 What is the difference between a native of Africa, who 
 is transported to the West Indies, there to labour solely 
 
NOTES ON PART TI. 115 
 
 for the benefit of tyrants ; and a native of England, 
 torn away from all his friends, and forced to labour in 
 an employ contrary to his inclinations, while he is often 
 exposed to the tyrannical hauteur and injustice of weak 
 minds? 
 
 The African captive is confined in the noisome hold 
 of a slave ship. The tender ties of kindred are burst 
 asunder. When he arrives on the islands of misery he 
 toils in sorrow', and in sorrow he retires from labour. 
 Amid the restless inquietude of his slumbers he dreams 
 of the shady groves of Africa; he caresses again his 
 joyful family ; the apparition of hope glides before him, 
 but she is pursued and overpowered by despair. At 
 this he starts, awakes, and rashly precipitates his flight, 
 until the dawn arises, not to cheer him with the charming 
 rays of liberty, but to discover his retreat; he is 
 brought back to endure the degrading torture of the 
 lash. Thus his existence drags on until that form which 
 is able to endure every other misfortune (now degraded 
 from the rank of man) sinks under tbat of slavery. 
 If the feelings of an uncultivated negro are so acute, 
 how much more poignant must be those of an enlight- 
 ened Englishman who is taught to consider himself 
 superlatively free? There are innumerable instances of 
 sailors being hunted in their houses, and forced away ; 
 frequently never more to return ; and there are number- 
 less instances of landmen, who, through this barbarous 
 custom, are torn from their families, very often to see 
 them again no more. 
 
 i 2 
 
116 NOTES ON PART II. 
 
 I will relate a story, the circumstances of which are 
 common, and familiar to all those who are acquainted 
 with the naval profession. 
 
 Daniel Driver was a farmer's servant. Young, and 
 happy in the society of his wife and family, his humble 
 earnings were the reward of voluntary labour, while his 
 slumbers were the calm repose of content. But the 
 morning dawned when his lovely wife was to see her 
 husband for the last time. Business having called him 
 to the metropolis, on his return home he was accosted, 
 at the foot of London Bridge, by a ruffian dressed in 
 sailor's clothes. Terrified at the idea of a pressgang, 
 he confided only in the swiftness of his flight; but a 
 blow from his pursuer's bludgeon soon brought poor 
 Driver to the ground. He was immediately surrounded, 
 and hurried along the street, with a bleeding and dis- 
 consolate countenance, to a boat, which conveyed him 
 on board the Enterprise lying off the Tower, where he 
 was thrown into the hold or dungeon of that inhuman 
 slave ship the Tender. Vain were the protestations 
 which he made, that he was totally ignorant of the sea. 
 A villain swore that he sailed with him on board such 
 and such ships ; this was sufficient, without any other 
 crime, to transport him from his native land, nor was 
 he suffered to see his destitute children. He was hur- 
 ried on board a frigate, which immediately sailed with 
 a fleet for the Mediterranean. There he remained two 
 years, at the expiration of which period the ship returned 
 to Plymouth. He then ran away, was caught again, 
 
NOTES ON PART II. 117 
 
 and punished. After this he was prevented from the 
 possibility of escaping, until the hope of again seeing 
 his friends induced him to enter. This in a little time 
 presented him with the wished-for opportunity; he em- 
 braced it. Alas ! he was again taken, and severely 
 flogged. But the attractions of kindred and of liberty 
 were too strong to prevent him from making a third 
 attempt. After an absence of nearly seven years, he 
 provided himself with a suitable disguise for the inside 
 of a stage coach. Long and anxious were the mo- 
 ments of his suspense. At length the coach started 
 for Exeter; the main body of marines, stationed on the 
 look out for seamen at Crabtree, was fortunately passed; 
 and the passengers alighted at an inn, near Ivy Bridge, 
 for the purpose of taking breakfast. As soon as they 
 resumed their seats in the coach, and all were in expec- 
 tation of immediately proceeding, Driver's heart began 
 to feel the warm glow of hope, and the smiling features 
 of his joyful wife and children arose upon his imagina- 
 tion. Suddenly, however, he was awoke from this 
 pleasing reverie ; for, like a savage fiend of hell breaking 
 through the gates of Paradise, a detested marine ap- 
 peared. Driver was ordered from his seat, handcuffed, 
 conducted back to Plymouth, and conveyed on board 
 the guard ship, where he was recognised by his captain, 
 tried by a court-martial, and sentenced to receive four 
 hundred lashes round the fleet. The launch was along- 
 side the last ship, the last boatswain's mate was giving 
 him the last dozen, when poor Driver fainted. Water, 
 
118 NOTES ON PART II. 
 
 provided for the purpose, was given him to drink, but 
 this unfortunate young Englishman was taken down 
 lifeless by his tormentors, to drink no more the bitter 
 waters of tyranny or slavery. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Note 1,^.60, I 63. 
 The capstan bars are mann'd, &c. 
 
 Capstan bars are long pieces of wood, which are 
 occasionally placed in the drumhead of the capstan. 
 They are oniy used when prodigiously weighty bodies 
 are to be raised, such as anchors, topmasts, lower 
 yards, &c. 
 
 The capstan is a circular piece of timber, of large 
 dimensions, which is let down perpendicularly through 
 the decks, resembling a truncated cone ; the top of 
 which, having a number of square holes to receive the 
 bars, is called the drumhead. From the drumhead 
 downwards, projections extend called whelps, their 
 bottoms forming the base of the cone, round which 
 turns of any rope are taken, that by revolving, by 
 means of the bars, produces a sufficient mechanical 
 power to raise any weighty article used on board. 
 
120 NOTES ON PART III. 
 
 Note 2, p. 60, 1 64. 
 
 And through the hawse the trembling cable flies. 
 
 The hawse is that part of the bow of a ship through 
 which the hawse-holes are cut, for the purpose of 
 admitting the cables. 
 
 Note 3, p. 60, I 66, 
 
 The nimble braces cast her from the shore. 
 
 The braces, which are of essential service, and much 
 used, are classed among the smaller ropes called run- 
 ning rigging. There being one on the end of each yard, 
 they serve to haul the sails round in any direction, that 
 may most retard or facilitate the ship's way through 
 the water. 
 
 Note 4, ,p. 63, I 118. 
 The fore and main tacks rattling swift descend. 
 The tacks are ropes, fixed to the clews or lower 
 corners of the fore and main sails, which serve to fasten 
 them down to a position on the weather side. 
 
 Note 5, p. 63, I 119. 
 The topsails, staysails, royals, all extend. 
 The staysails are fore and aft sails, hoisted between 
 the masts, and supported by the stays. 
 
NOTES ON PART III. 121 
 
 Note 6, p. 72, I 328. 
 
 The falls alike confess the powerful strain. 
 
 The fall is that part of the rope of a tackle on which 
 the seamen haul to raise the purchase. 
 
 Note 7, p. 80, 7. 508. 
 Sweeps o'er the wave the swelling studding-sail. 
 
 Studding-sails are long narrow sails, hoisted occa- 
 sionally to the yard arms, on the outside of the courses, 
 topsails, top-gallant sails, &c, and are generally used 
 in fine weather with a fair wind. 
 
 Note 8, p. 82, I 538. 
 At once the rullux sound along the deep. 
 
 The rullux are those square holes which are cut in 
 the gunwale of a boat, to admit the oars for the purpose 
 of rowing. 
 
 Note 9, p. 86, I. 631. 
 Safe o'er the bar. 
 
 A bar is a shoal or sand bank, which runs across the 
 entrance of a river or harbour. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Note 1,^.91,7.32. 
 We lash the driver and the trysail bend. 
 
 To bend a sail is to tie it to the yard, or fix it to a 
 situation ready for extending. 
 
 The driver is a large sail, which is set abaft the miz- 
 en-mast, in moderate weather, and hoists upon the 
 trysail-mast. 
 
 The trysail is a small sail, made of very stout canvass, 
 and is also set on the same mast; but used only in very 
 tempestuous weather. 
 
 Note 2, p. 91, I 33. 
 
 The yards are trussed. 
 
 The yards are said to be trussed when the ropes 
 called trusses, which bind them to the mast, are hauled 
 tight. This is only applicable to the lower yards. The 
 tospsail yards, &c. are made fast to the masts by 
 parrels. 
 
NOTES ON PART IV. 123 
 
 Note 3, p. 91, /. 40. 
 
 The watch is then called up to lay her to. 
 
 In stormy weather, with a contrary wind, and a very 
 high sea, it is impossible to gain any advantage from 
 sailing. In such cases, it is the seaman's care, as much 
 as possible, to avoid being driven too far to leeward out 
 of his course. For this purpose, the ship is brought 
 sideways to the wind, under no more sail than is suf- 
 ficient to keep her from rolling to windward, the con- 
 sequences of which, should a sea break full on her 
 decks at the time, would be very dangerous. In general, 
 the main-topsail is used, being more handy as well as 
 safe ; for, in consequence of its height, it is not so easily 
 becalmed by a high sea as any lower sail might be, and 
 if taken aback, which is frequently the case in a hur- 
 ricane, it is easily braced round, which would not be 
 the case with either of the courses. In this situation, 
 which is called lying-to, a ship also lies in the hollow 
 of the sea, and, as the wind operates on either end 
 alike, she performs an angular motion ; coming up to 
 the wind and falling off from it alternately. Under a 
 close reefed main-topsail and trysail, she would come 
 within five points of the wind, and fall off to about 
 seven. In lying-to, also, a ship has little or no way 
 through the water, but drifts slowly in the direction of 
 the wind and sea. 
 
124 NOTES ON PART IV. 
 
 Note 4, p. 91, Z. 42. 
 While in the top the sailors crowded stand. 
 
 The top is a large platform, round each lower mast 
 head, to extend the topmast-shrouds from the mast. 
 
 In each top there is a certain number of men sta- 
 tioned, who are called top-men. In the main-top of a 
 thirty-two gun frigate there are about twenty-six, and in 
 the fore and mizen less in proportion to their employ- 
 ment, which is chiefly about the rigging and sails above 
 the top. 
 
 Note 5, p. 91, Z. 45. 
 
 Along the foot-ropes. 
 
 The foot-ropes, which are extended underneath the 
 yards, are those on which the seamen stand when they 
 go out on the yard, for the purpose of furling, or loosing 
 sails, Sec. 
 
 Note 6, p. 91, Z. 46. 
 
 — — Down the lifts more nimble glide. 
 
 Lifts are ropes extended from the mast heads to the 
 extremities of their respective yards, and are of use to 
 support them in an even position. 
 
 Note 7, p. 92, Z. 57. 
 i Strains the leech before. 
 
 The leech is the outside or edge of a sail. 
 
NOTES ON PART IV. 125 
 
 Note 8, p. 92, I 
 Now up the trysail-mast 
 
 The trysail-mast is a long slender spar, which steps 
 or stands on the driver-boom, with its upper end just 
 above the mizen-top, and close behind the mizen-mast. 
 Its use is to support the driver and trysail, both which 
 sails are made fast to it. 
 
 Note 9, p. 93, /. 90. 
 Too near the cape our business is to wear. 
 
 Wearing is an operation generally performed when 
 there is too much wind and sea to tack ; both which 
 manoeuvres are for the purpose of laying the ship so that 
 the wind may operate on the other side, exactly the 
 same as it did on its opposite side before tacking or 
 wearing. Thus, in a contrary wind, as the ship cannot 
 sail in a straight line towards her destination, she sails 
 as near the wind as possible ; but, if she continued to 
 sail in one direction, she would ultimately vary from her 
 course. This is remedied by either tacking or wearing. 
 She then sails in an angular direction, the sides of each 
 angle crossing the line of her course ; and each angle 
 bringing her nearer to the point of her destination. 
 
 When a ship tacks, it is performed thus — the helm is 
 put on the lee side, while the head sheets are let go, so 
 as to let the foremost sails shake; the head braces are 
 then attended, so as to assist her in coming round; 
 when the wind is ahead, the after yards are hauled 
 
120 NOTES ON PART IV. 
 
 round the other way, and when the ship falls off, so as 
 to fill the after sails, the head yards are then hauled 
 round, the same as those abaft, when all are trimmed 
 again as before. Thus, in tacking, a ship loses little 
 or no ground, but turns with her head to windward. 
 In wearing, however, it is quite the contrary. The helm 
 is then put on the weather side; the after yards being 
 all square, the operation of the wind is entirely thrown 
 upon the fore part of the ship, when she moves, in 
 consequence of these dispositions, in a direction before 
 the wind ; the head yards are then laid square, and the 
 after yards braced up the other way ; the helm at the 
 same time moves to the opposite side, which, together 
 with the entire pressure of the wind on the hinder part 
 of the ship, brings her gradually to the wind again on 
 the other tack. In this operation much ground is- 
 unavoidably lost by running before the wind. 
 
 Note 10, p. 93, I 95. 
 
 To learn if yet that sail resists the strain, 
 On which their every hope must now remain. 
 
 For an explanation of the danger of rolling to wind- 
 ward, and the utility of the main-topsail in lying-to in 
 a gale of wind, see note 3, Part IV. 
 
 Note 11, p. 94, 1 102. 
 While forward sings aloud the boatswain's call. 
 The sailors are summoned to their employment, and 
 
NOTES ON PART IV. 1*27 
 
 partly regulated in it, by whistles, commonly called 
 boatswain's calls. 
 
 Notes 12 and 13, p. 96, I 144. 
 The captains claim the bunt, each near the tie. 
 
 In each of the tops of a British ship of war, to each 
 watch, there is a first, and a second captain ; they rank 
 as petty officers, and are generally selected from the 
 most skilful of the seamen. 
 
 The tie is a thick rope, used in hoisting the topsails, 
 which has its end made fast to the topmast head, then, 
 passing through a block on the centre of the yard, 
 reeves through another aloft; and descending, has its 
 other end spliced round a block called the fly-block, 
 and through which the topsail halliards are rove. See 
 notes 8 and 9, Part II. 
 
 Note 14, p. 96, 7. 156. 
 
 Your men, your draft-boards, all neglected lay. 
 
 The topmen often amuse themselves when aloft by 
 playing at drafts. The draftmen are always kept in a 
 bag, and tied to some convenient corner. Their boards 
 they have less fear of losing ; for, the top being painted 
 black, they mark the number of squares, and scrape 
 every other one, which, giving it a different colour, 
 answers the purpose of a draft-board. 
 
123 NOTES ON PART IV, 
 
 Note 15, p. 96, I 160. 
 
 Their arms the weather launiards some enfold. 
 
 Lanniards are ropes which reeve through dead-eyes, 
 or circular pieces of wood, with three holes, at the 
 lower extremities of the rigging ; reeving at the same 
 time through others at the edge of the top. They are 
 of use in tightening the rigging, and also bear their part 
 in the strain which the shrouds sustain in supporting 
 the mast. 
 
 Note 16, p. 97, I 163. 
 
 Long dreary waves successive pass below, 
 And flashing hills around alternate glow. 
 
 In a very dark and stormy night the light emitted by 
 the summit of a sea, while bursting into foam, some- 
 what resembles fire. The force of a sea when it breaks 
 is also prodigious ; the destructive consequences of 
 which are described in page 97, where the ship after 
 having split her main-topsail, feels the full power of it, 
 bursting over her, breaking iron stanch eons, and de- 
 stroying the stoutest boat in the ship. To this the 
 author, with the whole ship's company of his Majesty's 
 ship Minerva, were eye witnesses ; not only to its break- 
 ing the launch to shivers, but driving the ribs of that 
 boat through two others that were lashed near it upon 
 the booms. 
 
NOTES ON PART IV. 129 
 
 Note 17, p. 97, I 176. 
 Torn are the iron stanchions with their rails. 
 
 The stanchions here alluded to are iron posts which 
 support the waist hammock-netting-rails. 
 
 Note 18, p. 98, I 184. 
 
 Cut the port lanniards ! 
 
 The port lanniards are cords which fasten the half- 
 ports on the inside to ringbolts in the ship's side. 
 
 Note 19, p. 98, I 185. 
 And see the scuppers clear ! 
 
 Scuppers are holes cut through a, ship's side, slanting 
 from the deck, to free her of the water shipped in a 
 gale of wind, or from that used in washing the decks ; 
 an operation which is strictly performed every morning. 
 
 Note 20, p. 98, I 200. 
 Fast by the bulwarks now two seamen stay. 
 
 The bulwarks form that part of a ship's side, on the 
 upper deck, through which the forecastle and quarter- 
 deck guns are pointed. 
 
 Note 21, p. 101, I 254. 
 Oh port the helm ! 
 
 To port the helm is to move it on the larboard or left 
 side of the ship, which immediately turns her head to 
 the starboard or right. 
 
 K 
 
130 NOTES ON PART IV. 
 
 Note 22, p. 101,7.264. 
 Close hauled, then smoother up the bay we fly. 
 
 A ship is said to be close hauled when she sa'ls with 
 her yards braced up, as near the wind as possible . This 
 is generally the case in a contrary wind, or when she 
 can but just reach her destination. 
 
 Note 23, p. 102, I 287. 
 Untempted still by fair Columbia's land, 
 For ever in old England's cause they'd stand. 
 
 It is a notorious fact that numbers of English sailors, 
 who have served their country at sea on board ships of 
 war, have been for some time past starving even in the 
 streets of London ; and it is equally notorious, that a 
 vast number of them have emigrated to America. There 
 they have smarter vessels under their feet even than 
 British ships of war; they have also higher wages; 
 added to which is, a sure prospect of having their prize- 
 money faithfully and speedily paid them. This is of 
 more consequence than many perhaps imagine; for, 
 should another war commence, and the majority of c jr 
 able seamen be provided for, under the white flag, with 
 "free trade and sailors' rights," England might then too 
 late repent of her ingratitude to her sailors, and perhaps 
 lose her lion's paw, as well as her peacocVs tail 
 
 C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. 
 
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