Charles Dibdin

The Sailor's Journal

'TWAS post meridian half past four,
⁠By signal I from Nancy parted;
At six she linger'd on the shore,
⁠With uplift hands, and broken hearted:
At seven, while taught'ning the fore-stay,
⁠I saw her faint, or else 'twas fancy:
At eight we all got under weigh,
⁠And bid a long adieu to Nancy.

Night came—and now eight bells had rung
⁠While carless sailors, ever cheery,
On the mid-watch so jovial sung,
⁠With tempers labour cannot weary;
I, little to their mirth inclin'd,
⁠While tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy,
And my warm sighs increas'd the wind,
⁠Look'd on the moon and thought of Nancy.

Next morn a storm came on at four,
⁠At six the elements in motion,
Plung'd me, and three poor sailors more,
⁠Headlong into the foaming ocean!
Poor wretches! they soon found their graves;
⁠For me—it may be only fancy—
But love seem'd to forbid the waves
⁠To snatch me from the arms of Nancy.

Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd,
⁠Scarce winds and waves had ceas'd to rattle,
Ere a bold enemy appear'd,
⁠And dauntless, we prepar'd for battle.
And now, while some dear friend or wife,
⁠Like lightning, rush'd on ev'ry fancy,
To Providence I trusted life,
⁠Put up a pray'r—and thought on Nancy.

At last, 'twas in the month of May,
⁠The crew, it being lovely weather,
At three, A. M. discover'd day,
⁠And England's chalky cliffs together;
At seven, up channel how we bore!
⁠While hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy!
At twelve I gaily jump'd ashore,
⁠And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy.