To make the stripe in vain we tried
The Scilly rocks to clear,
The thunder of the furious tide
Was filling every ear.
There came a sharp and sudden shock,—
Each thought of wife and home!
The gallant ship was on a rock,
And swept with wave and foam.
4
Of eighty seamen 'prised the crew,
But one did reach the shore,
The gallant vessel, good and true,
Was shattered aft and fore.
The news to Plymouth swift did fly,
That our good ship was gone;
And wet with tears was many an eye,
And many a widow lone.
5
And when I came to Plymouth sound
Alive, of eighty dead,
My pretty love, then false I found
And to a landsman wed.
O gentles all that live on land
Be-think the boys at sea,
Lo! here I stand with cap in hand,
And crave your charity.
[No 53 HENRY MARTYN]
C.J.S.
