The sheet and weather-brace they now stand by,
The lee clue-garnet, and the bunt-lines ply;
Then, all prepared, ‘Let go the sheet!’ he cries—
Loud rattling, jarring, through the blocks it flies!
Shivering at first, till by the blast impelled,
High o’er the lee yard-arm the canvass swelled;
By spilling lines embraced, with brails confined,
It lies at length unshaken by the wind.
The fore-sail then secured with equal care,
Again to reef the mainsail they repair;