Where the plank reels black above the blue,—
To wrench in vain at the fettered hand?—
Ere the sea shall smother the last adieu?
’Mid the gibes and jeers of the conquering crew
At the devil’s drift of the dread command
That ends the hopeless interview,—
Whose turn next to take his stand
On the oaken road to a farther land,
(Narrow and oaken, seen of few,
For the eye were steady indeed that scanned