Clue-lines hauled down, and sheets let fly amain:
Embrailed each top-sail, and by braces squar’d,
The seamen climb aloft, and man each yard;
They furled the sails, and pointed to the wind
The yards, by rolling tackles then confin’d,
While o’er the ship the gallant boatswain flies;
Like a hoarse mastiff through the storm he cries,
Prompt to direct th’ unskilful still appears,
Th’ expert he praises, and the timid cheers.
Now some, to strike top-gallant yards attend, }