The skipper then addressed the teacher, sickness-crossed:
“Knowest thou the swimmer’s art, good friend? With speed reply.”
“Nay,” said the teacher, “that’s an art the schools decry.”
The skipper now remarked: “Thy whole life’s gone to waste.
The ship must go to pieces. Water salt thou’lt taste.600
With syncope, not syntax, now we’ll have to deal.
With syncope, from water comes nor hurt, nor weal,
The sea bears on its surface bodies of the dead;
But living men it drowns; them sinks, as though of lead.
So soon as thou’lt be dead to every human art