Poems » john lyly » the last buccaneer


The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling,
    The sky was black and drear,
When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name
    Alongside the last Buccaneer.

"Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale,
    When all others drive bare on the seas?
Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador,
    Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees?"

"From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound,
    Without rudder or needle we steer;
Above, below, our bark, dies the sea fowl and the shark,
    As we fly by the last Buccaneer.

"To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde
    A loud crash, and a louder roar;
And to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning, sweep
    The corpses and wreck to the shore."

The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride
    In the breath of the citron shades;
And Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast,
    Through the sea of the balmy Trades.

From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal fort,
    The seaman goes forth without fear;
For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight
    Of the flag of the last Buccaneer.