Page:Once a Week June to Dec 1863.pdf/52

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And he sang of the green surge under the cliffs,

And the white wave spitting foam

O’er the jagged snout of the “shark-tooth” reef,

Not a mile from his Cornish home.

Then every Viking cried, “To sea!”

Hearing that song of pride and glee.

Sing us a battle-song!” they said.

And he blew them a trumpet blast,

Like the shrill night shriek from a burning town,

That makes the wolf aghast.

Then they cried, “To sea!” and the galleys sprang

To the waves’ embrace, as the captive sang.