Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/165

 A stormy midnight watch, he thought,

Than this sojourn would have been dearer,

If but the storm his vessel brought To England nearer.

At last, when care had banished sleep,

He saw one morning dreaming doating,

An empty hogshead from the deep Come shoreward floating;

He hid it in a cave, and wrought The live-long day laborious; lurking

Until he launched a tiny boat By mighty working.

Heaven help us! 'twas a thing beyond Description, wretched : such a wherry

Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond, Or crossed a ferry.

For ploughing in the salt-sea field,

It would have made the boldest shudder;

Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, No sail no rudder.

From neighb'ring woods he interlaced His sorry skiff with wattled willows;

And thus equipped he would have passed The foaming billows

But Frenchmen caught him on the beach,

His little Argo sorely jeering; Till tidings of him chanced to reach

Napoleon's hearing.

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