We shattered the galleys of conquering Rome,
The galleons of Philip that scudded for home
(The sea-molluscs slime on their glittering gear);
We plundered the plundering French privateer,
We caught the great Indiaman head in the wind
And gutted her hold of the treasures of Ind;
We sank a whole fleet of three-deckers one night
(The drift of the sand keeps their culverins bright),
And cloudy tea-clippers that raced from Canton
Swept into our clutches—and never went on.