While loud huzzas ran up the roof
Till the lamps did rock o'erhead,
And holly-boughs from rafters hung
Dropped down their berries red,—
He little thought on Plymouth Hoe,
With every rising tide,
How the wave washed in his sailor lads,
And laid them side by side.
There stepped a stranger to the board:
"Now, stranger, who be ye?"
He looked to right, he looked to left,
And "Rest you merry," quoth he;
"For you did not see the brig go down,
Or ever a storm had blown;
For you did not see the white wave rear
At the rock,—the Eddystone.
"She drave at the rock with sternsails set;
Crash went the masts in twain;
She staggered back with her mortal blow,
Then leaped at it again.
"There rose a great cry, bitter and strong,
The misty moon looked out!
And the water swarmed with seamen's heads,
And the wreck was strewed about.
"I saw her mainsail lash the sea
As I clung to the rock alone;
Then she heeled over, and down she went,
And sank like any stone.
"She was a fair ship, but all's one!
For naught could bide the shock."
"I will take horse," Winstanley said,
"And see this deadly rock."
"For never again shall bark o' mine
Sail over the windy sea,
Unless, by the blessing of God, for this
Be found a remedy."
Winstanley rode to Plymouth town
All in the sleet and the snow,
And he looked around on shore and sound
As he stood on Plymouth Hoe.