ROMP OF THE SEA.

(Off the coast of Boulogne at midnight, awaiting the Spaandam.)

O, the romp and the rift of the shifting sea!

The pomp of the lifting sea!

O, the hurrying rills where the cauldron spills

On the rocks in their scurrying glee!

O, the bellowing leagues of the sea’s intrigues,

As we row like a galley-slave,

Where the breakers glide as we slither and ride

On the back of a balky wave!