Unwillingly on board. And then the boatswain,
Swearing, by all that’s hot, he’ll use his rope’s end
Upon some laggard’s shoulders. Then the lieutenant,
Full of strange hopes and visions like the bard,
Eager for honour, longing for war and quarrel,
Seeking the bubble, merited advancement,
E’en in an iron clad. And then the captain,
In handsome uniform, with honour worn,
With bright, clear eyes, and mouth that’s often shut,
Full of old yarns and deeds that tell of duty.