And rob the galleons old of Spain.’
He went and died ’mid the isles, ah me!
And his white ship scudded across the sea,
The ‘Golden Hinde’ in the western wind,
And never again to his home came he—
But only his gold brought home again.
’Twas fool’s gold all.
IV.
“Old Plymouth stands by the windy sea,
As lovely a city as ever was seen.