Then up there came two little waves,
All rippling so free;
They lifted up the broad-brimmed hats,
And bore them out to sea.
The ribbons red and ribbons blue
Streamed gallantly away;
The straw did glitter in the sun,
Were never craft so gay!
The mother of these little lads
Was sailing on the sea;
And now she laughed, and now she sang,
And who so blithe as she?
And "Look!" she said; "what things be these
That dance upon the wave,
All fluttering and glittering
And sparkling so brave?
"Now row me well, my brethren, twain,
Now row me o'er the sea!
For we will chase these tiny craft,
And see what they may be."
They rowed her fast, they rowed her well,—
Too well, those gallants true;
For when she reached the broad-brimmed hats,
Right well those hats she knew.
"Alas!" she cried; "my little lads
Are drownèd in the sea!"
Then down she sank in deadly swoon,
As pale as she might be.
They rowed her well, those gallants gay,
They rowed her to the land;
They lifted up that lady pale,
And bore her up the strand.
But as they bore her up the beach,
The balls began to fly,
And hit those gallants on the nose,
And hit them in the eye.
They lookèd here, they lookèd there,
To see whence this might be;
And soon they spied a stately fort,
Beside the salt, salt sea.