Page:Joys of the harvest.pdf/4

[ 4 ] From bounding billows firt in motion,

where the ditant whirlwinds rie,

To the tempet-troubled ocean,

when the eas contend with kies.

Hark! the boatwain hoarely bawling,

by top-ail heets and haulyards tand,

Down top-gallants, quick be hauling,

down your tay-ails, hand boys, hand.

Now it frehens, et the braces,

the lee top-ail heets let go;

Luff, boys, luff, don’t make wry faces,

up your top-ails nimbly clew.

Now all you on down-beds porting,

fondly lock’d ’twixt beauty’s arms,

Fresh enjoyment, wanting courting,

afe from all but love’s alarms.

Around us roars the tempet louder;

think what fears our minds enthral:

Harder yet, it yet blows harder,

now again the boatwain’s call.

The topail-yards point to the wind, boys,

ee all clear to reef each coure;

Let the ore-heet go, don’t mind, boys,

tho’ the weather hould be wore;

Fore and aft the pritail-yard get,

reef the mizzen, ee all clear;

Hands up, each preventure brace et,

man the fore-yard ; cheer, lads, cheer.