THE SINGING MARINER
A Ballad from the Spanish
Who will ever have again,
On the land or on the main,
Such a chance as happen’d to
Count Arnaldos long ago.
With his falcon in his hand,
Forth he went along the strand;
There he saw a galley gay,
Briskly bearing for the bay.
Ask me not her name and trade,—
All the sails of silk were made;
He who steer’d the ship along
Raised his voice, and sang a song.
Sang a song whose magic force
Calm’d the breaker in its course;
While the fishes, sore amazed,
Left their holes and upward gazed.
And the fowl came flocking fast,
Round the summit of the mast;
Still he sang to wind and wave:
“God preserve my vessel brave!
“Guard her from the rocks that grow
’Mid the sullen deep below;
From the gust, and from the breeze,
Sweeping through Gibtarek’s seas.
“From the gulf of Venice too,
With its shoals and waters blue;
Where the mermaid chants her hymn,
Borne upon the billow’s brim.”
Forward stept Arnaldos bold,
Thus he spake, as I am told:
“Teach me, sailor, I entreat,
Yonder song that sounds so sweet.”
But the sailor shook his head,
Shook it thrice, and briefly said:
“Never will I teach the strain
But to him who ploughs the main.”