Page:An English Garner Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (Volume 1 1877).pdf/469

 Thus driven with every gale of wind, My weather-beaten bark doth fail: Still hoping harbour once to find, Which may these passing perils quail.

But out alas! in vain I hope, Sith billows proud assault me still: And skill doth want with seas to cope, And liquor salt my keel doth fill.

Yet storm doth cease: but lo, at hand, A ship with warlike wights addressed; Which seems to be some pirate's band, With powder and with pellets pressed.

To sink or spoil my bruisèd bark; Which dangers' dread could not a daunt. And now the shot the air doth dark; And Captain on the deck him vaunt.

Then IGNORANCE the Overseer proud, Cries to SUSPICION, "Spare no shot:" And ENVY yelleth out aloud, "Yield to DETRACTION this thy boat."

And as it is now seamen's trade, When might to cool the foe doth lack: By vailing foretop, sign I made; That to their lee, I me did take.

Then gathering wind, to me they make. And TREASON first on board doth come; Then follows FRAUD like wily snake, And swift amongst them takes his room.