‘All hands unmoor!’ proclaims a boisterous cry;
‘All hands unmoor!’ the caverned rocks reply:
Roused from repose aloft the sailors swarm,
And with their levers soon the windlass arm:
The order given, up springing with a bound, }
They fix the bars, and heave the windlass round; }
At every turn the clanging pauls resound: }
Up-torn reluctant from its oozy cave
The ponderous anchor rises o’er the wave.
High on the slippery masts the yards ascend,