The Last Buccaneer
THE winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, The sky was black and drear, When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name Alongside the last Buccaneer. "Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale, When all others drive bare on the seas? Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees?" "From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, Without rudder or needle we steer; Above, below, our bark, dies the sea-fowl and the shark, As we fly by the last Buccaneer. "To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde, A loud crash, and a louder roar; And to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning, sweep The corpses and wreck to the shore." The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride, In the breath of the citron shades; And Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast, Through the sea of the balmy Trades. From St Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal fort, The seaman goes forth without fear; For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight Of the flag of the last Buccaneer.
English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org