Song of the Crew of Diaz
On the Discovery of the Cape of Good Hope,
or Cape of Storms
Where no sound was ever heard
But the ocean's hollow roar,
As it breaks, in foamy mountains,
Along the rugged shore:
Where ev'ry wind of heaven
That has terror on its wings,
Howls to the startled echo
That through each cavern rings:
Upon that world of waters,
Where nought has ever pass'd
But the storm-bird's glittering pinions,
As it whirls amidst the blast—
Where no sail has ever wandered
Beneath that troubled sky,
Frowns the stately Cape of Storms
O'er the drear immensity!
Above whose hoary summit,
Where captive thunders sleep,
Three huge black clouds for ever
Their dreadful station keep.
We have gazed on what no other
Has ever gazed upon—
We have braved the angry spirits,
And our victory is won.
We have conquered all the dangers
Of a yet unfathom'd sea;
And we bring the prize of glory.
Our country, Spain, to thee!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Adamastor
Nearing the Cape of storms
ships sail and sailors pray
to their gods to prevail
when suddenly out of the blue
storm clouds gather
and lightning bolts flash down
while unseen and like a phantom
the giant of the ages
barbaric and savage
the Titan Adamastor
watches ever morose,
resentful and unforgiving
drawing the sea in his fist
and throwing a great
unpredicted crashing wave,
causing sudden storms
and gale force winds,
calling thunder to hit down
like Thor’s hammer
and in his workshop brewing storms
and out of the granite rocks at times
where his body lies entombed
his spirit rises angry.
Numerous ships are wrecked
along the shore,
where giant elder god Adamastor
rages ashore
among the sandstone cliffs
and in anger forever more
sends storms, great winds
and throwing thick fog
to draw ships on ridges and sharp rocks.
[References: Rounding the Cape by Roy Campbell and Canto V Vasco da Gama (Os Lusiadas) by Luis de Camões.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Table Bay
The sun sets over table bay
and that rough sea lies calm
and a moon rises full,
above the waves
and the thundering breakers
roar like they did
many years before
Odysseus sailed from the island of Ithaca
and went to Troy to war
where he accompanied the heroes
Neoptolemus and Philoctetes and the
armour and shield of great Achilles,
was his to take
and for years he dwelt
on stormy seas and in far away lands.
If per chance his ship would stray
and reach the cape of storms
in another age and time
and his eyes could see
the beauty of that lovely shore,
no other place would
his ship sail to
When Bartolomeu Dias set his ships sails
and left king John ashore,
he was prepared to sail
to the ends of the earth
and no horrendous sea creature
could keep his ships in check.
I wonder what he thought
when the fog faded away
and table mount sprang into view
and table bay lay stretched out
up to its shore
and when he set his cross
did he know that he was marking
a great place
and when he marked his charts
did he wish to come back
to that stormy Cape?
When King John gave the name
Cabo da Bõa Esperança,
did he know that he was naming a place
from where a nation would sprout
and that it would become a city of hope?
[Reference: =>”Cabo da Bõa Esperança=>Cape of Good Hope”]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hat Of The Stars
The cape I don is like victory concealed,
Inspiration is the reaction of this.
My breath worked more and more every day,
As the torture of the sun was above.
I looked at the sky, worse were the stars
At night, fierce was the brightness,
Like supergiants.
The cape I don works as if by magic
A cape has been donned, to adorn the head
Somehow, somewhere in this country.
The path to happiness is donned
By the head, it is the cap I wear for safety.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Cape of the Caba Rumia
Sail on! what power has our luckless bark
To this ominous realm betrayed,
Where Cava's rock, o'er the waters dark,
Points out where her bones are laid?
Away! away! though tempests sweep,
And waves rage loud and high,
Brave all the terrors of the deep—
But come not that haven nigh.
The spirit of the fatal fair
Hovers dimly over her grave;
'Tis her voice that rings through the troubled air,
'Tis her moan that awakes the wave!
Oh! dearly the sons of Spain can tell
The woes that her beauty cost,
When Roderick, won by that witching spell,
Fame—honour and country lost.
And ever her name is an evil sound,
And her memory hated shall be;
And woe and dangers that bark surround
That Cava's rock shall see.
Then hasten on for some happier shore;
Nor that Cape still linger near,
That the Spaniard true, and the infidel Moor,
Alike avoid with fear!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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The Fortitude Of The North
_Under the Disaster of the Second Manassas_
They take no shame for dark defeat
While prizing yet each victory won,
Who fight for the Right through all retreat,
Nor pause until their work is done.
The Cape-of-Storms is proof to every throe;
Vainly against that foreland beat
Wild winds aloft and wilder waves below:
The black cliffs gleam through rents in sleet
When the livid Antarctic storm-clouds glow.
poem by Herman Melville
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Kara
Chequered with sunshine and shade—the umbrage of white clouds in motion—
Rearing their summits to Heaven, broken like waves on their strands,
Northward and southward and seaward the mountains arise from the ocean—
Poised on a height above all, Kara, the beautiful, stands.
Kara, whose mountain the ranges lie under in turbulent surges—
Billows of purple and blue that stretch from her base to the sea—
Kara that knoweth the breath of the storm-wind, the sound of his dirges
Sweeping her gorges and clefts, or sighing to river and tree.
High as an eagle’s nest, crowning a summit storm-beaten and hoary,
Framed in a setting of green which sombre tints deepen and tone,
Gleam all the station’s white roofs, refracting the Summer-god’s glory:
Ribbons of silvery light surmounting gray masses of stone.
Beauty is round it, and peace; and silence and sunlight enfold it,
Clothing with mystical charm summit and forest and scar,
Fair as a dream of delight it seemeth to eyes that behold it,
Roofed by the azure of heaven, with sheen of blue waters afar.
Dreamily drifteth the day in solitudes far from life’s clamour;
Soundeth no murmur of tongues, echo of hurrying feet;
Soundeth no blast of the furnace, nor anvil that rings with the hammer,
Thunder of horses and wheels, traffic, and roar of the street.
Only a silence supreme, where Nature seems buried in slumbers,
Save for the bell-bird’s clear note, or murmuring cadence of bees,
Or sough of the wind as it chanteth its paean in musical numbers
Soft to the pine-crests aloft—monarchs of leaf-laden seas.
poem by George Essex Evans
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The German Schwarzwald In The Forests Of Knysna
Africa, I love Africa, my continent, Africa
my beautiful country comprising the beauty
of Provençe in the Cape’s Ceres Valley, the
majestic Swiss Alps in the Drakensberg, the
German Schwarzwald in the forests of Knysna
Africa, I love Africa, I love the Africans,
wearing my blanket like the Matabele, doing
a Zulu dance in moments of glory, dabbling
in Fanagalo as spoken in kampongs, trying to
imitate Khoisan clicks in my songs
Africa, I love Africa, I love the cultural mélange
in South Africa mine, where the Atlantic meets the
Indian Ocean at the southernmost point, where Table
Mountain’s mist lives in my mind in the devil’s contest
to smoke with Van Hunk
Africa, I love Africa, where the Cape of Storms lives
in my heart in the tales of C.J. Langenhoven, written in
Afrikaans, the culture that gave birth to my people and
me, a mixture of French, German, Scottish, Dutch and
Irish forbears…
Africa, I love Africa, in the tale of the Little Hope
with tunic and crown, waiting impatiently at the Cape
of Good Hope for the arrival of southern nomads and
northern sea-farers; tales that inspire my thoughts,
burn in my dreams, filling my mind…
poem by Margaret Alice
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A Storm Is Coming
An angry grey comes from the deepening storm
Caressing the wings of petrels, gulls and a
Lone storm riding albatross
Greens curling twisting into grey corners
Black edges spitting razor rain
Wind driven craziness
Smiling predatory hunters gather on the front line
Storms bring nervous food sources
That have lost caution
Thrown it to the wind so easy
This wind that whips up salty froth
The rain rains
Big fish eat
Little fish die
There is a symphony of sound
That no one hears
Storms assume that the world is deaf
There is a hundred colours here
Mixing on this easel of nature
Out here on the sea of bluster
This way and that way
The wind and the waters
The wind and the waves
The wind and the wild
Wanton storm song
That no one else can sing
And the birds wheel and cry
Turn and fly away just before they cant
The beasts of the deep grey green
do the same
Only I cannot turn and fly away
Only I remain and scream at the sight
sound and might.
poem by Geoffrey Fafard
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Old Ironsides
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle shout,
And burst the cannon's roar; --
The meteor of the ocean air
Shall sweep the clouds no more.
Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,
And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the conquered knee; --
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!
Oh, better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave;
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Tom Deadlight
Farewell and adieu to you noble hearties,--
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain,
For I've received orders for to sail for the
Deadman,
But hope with the grand fleet to see you
again.
I have hove my ship to, with main-top-sail
aback, boys;
I have hove my ship to, for the strike
soundings clear--
The black scud a'flying; but, by God's blessing,
dam' me,
Right up the Channel for the Deadman I'll
steer.
I have worried through the waters that are
called the Doldrums,
And growled at Sargasso that clogs while ye
grope--
Blast my eyes, but the light-ship is hid by the
mist, lads:--
_Flying Dutchman_--odds bobbs--off the
Cape of Good Hope!
But what's this I feel that is fanning my cheek,
Matt?
The white goney's wing?--how she rolls!--
't is the Cape!--
Give my kit to the mess, Jock, for kin none is
mine, none;
And tell _Holy Joe_ to avast with the crape.
Dead reckoning, says _Joe_, it won't do to go by;
But they doused all the glims, Matt, in sky
t' other night.
Dead reckoning is good for to sail for the
Deadman;
And Tom Deadlight he thinks it may reckon
near right.
The signal!--it streams for the grand fleet to
anchor.
The captains--the trumpets--the hullabaloo!
Stand by for blue-blazes, and mind your
shank-painters,
For the Lord High Admiral, he's squinting
at you!
But give me my _tot_, Matt, before I roll over;
Jock, let's have your flipper, it's good for to
feel;
And don't sew me up without _baccy_ in mouth,
boys,
And don't blubber like lubbers when I turn
up my keel.
poem by Herman Melville
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Christmas In Capetown
Every night
In jungletown
All the boogies in the street
Radios turned up very loud
Playin dancing queen
They love our music
This english girl from the north somewhere
Is stayin with me at my place
Drinkin up all my beer
Talkin about the poor niggers all the time
Its a real disgrace, she says
I tell her, darling, dont talk about things
You dont understand
I tell her, darling, dont talk about something
You dont know anything about
I tell her, darling, if you dont like it here
Go back to your own miserable country
Its christmas in cape town but it aint the same
Oh, the boys on the beach are still blowin
And the summer wind still kicks the clouds around
You know my little brother, babe
Well, he works out at the diamond mine
I drove him out there at five this mornin
The niggers were waitin in a big long line
You know those big old lunch pails they carry, man
With a picture of star wars painted on the side
They were starin at us real hard with
Their big ugly yellow eyes
You could feel it
You could feel it
Its christmas in cape town but it aint the same
The stores are open all the time
And little kids on skateboards cut in and out of the crowd
And the christmas lights still shine
Myself, I dont like to drink the way
I used to, man, you know
It dont seem to get me high
And the beer dont taste the way it
Ought to taste somehow
And I dont know why
Dont talk to me about the planes
Man, Ive heard it
Just take a look around
What are we gonna do, blow up
The whole damn country?
Its christmas in cape town
Its christmas in cape town
Its christmas in cape town
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghosts Of Cape Horn
All around old cape horn
Ships of the line, ships of the morn
Some who wish theyd never been born
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Fal deral da riddle de rum
With a rim dim diddy
And a rum dum dum
Sailing away at the break of morn
They are the ghosts of cape horn
See them all in sad repair
Demons dance everywhere
Southern gales, tattered sails
And none to tell the tales
Come all of you rustic old sea dogs
Who follow the great southern cross
You were rounding the horn
In the eye of a storm
When ya lost er one day
And you read all yer letters
From oceans away
Then you took them to the bottom of the sea
All around old cape horn
Ships of the line, ships of the morn
Those who wish theyd never been born
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Fal deral da riddle de rum
With a rim dim diddy
And a rum dum dum
Sailing away at the break of morn
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Come all you old sea dogs from devon
Southampton, penzance, and kinsale
You were caught by the chance
Of a sailors last dance
It was not meant to be
And ya read all yer letters
Cried anchor aweigh
Then ya took them to the bottom of the sea
All around old cape horn
Ships of the line, ships of the morn
Those who wish theyd never been born
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Fal deral da riddle de rum
With a rim dim diddy
And a rum dum dum
Sailing away at the break of morn
They are the ghosts of cape horn
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flying Dutchman
LONG time ago, from Amsterdam a vessel sailed away,—
As fair a ship as ever flung aside the laughing spray.
Upon the shore were tearful eyes, and scarfs were in the air,
As to her, o'er the Zuyder Zee, went fond adieu and prayer;
And brave hearts, yearning shoreward from the outwardgoing ship,
Felt lingering kisses clinging still to tear-wet cheek and lip.
She steered for some far eastern clime, and, as she skimmed the seas,
Each taper mast was bending like a rod before the breeze.
Her captain was a stalwart man,—an iron heart had he,—
From childhood's days he sailed upon the rolling Zuyder Zee:
He nothing feared upon the earth, and scarcely heaven feared,
He would have dared and done whatever mortal man had dared!
He looked aloft, where high in air the pennant cut the blue,
And every rope and spar and sail was firm and strong and true.
He turned him from the swelling sail to gaze upon the shore,—
Ah! little thought the skipper then 'twould meet his eye no more:
He dreamt not that an awful doom was hanging o'er his ship,
That Vanderdecken's name would yet make pale the speaker's lip.
The vessel bounded on her way, and spire and dome went down,—
Ere darkness fell, beneath the wave had sunk the distant town.
No more, no .more, ye hapless crew, shall Holland meet your eye.
In lingering hope and keen suspense, maid, wife, and child shall die!
Away, away the vessel speeds, till sea and sky alone
Are round her, as her course she steers across the torrid zone.
Away, until the North Star fades, the Southern Cross is high,
And myriad gems of brightest beam are sparkling In the sky.
The tropic winds are left behind; she nears the Cape of Storms,
Where awful Tempest ever sits enthroned in wild alarms;
Where Ocean in his anger shakes aloft his foamy crest,
Disdainful of the weakly toys that ride upon his breast.
Pierce swell the winds and waters round the Dutchman's gallant ship,
But, to their rage, defiance rings from Vanderdecken's lip:
Impotent they to make him swerve, their might he dares despise,
As straight he holds his onward course, and wind and wave defies.
For days and nights he struggles in the weird, unearthly fight.
His brow is bent, his eye is fierce, but looks of deep affright
Amongst the mariners go round, as hopelessly they steer:
They do not dare to murmur, but they whisper what they fear.
Their black-browed captain awes them: 'neath his darkened eye they quail,
And in a grim and sullen mood their bitter fate bewail.
As some fierce rider ruthless spurs a timid, wavering horse,
He drives his shapely vessel, and they watch the reckless course,
Till once again their skipper's laugh is flung upon the blast:
The placid ocean smiles beyond, the dreaded Cape is passed!
Away across the Indian main the vessel northward glides;
A thousand murmuring ripples break along her graceful sides:
The perfumed breezes fill her sails,—her destined port she nears,—
The captain's brow has lost its frown, the mariners their fears.
'Land ho!' at length the welcome sound the watchful sailor sings,
And soon within an Indian bay the ship at anchor swings.
Not idle then the busy crew: ere long the spacious hold
Is emptied of its western freight, and stored with silk and gold.
Again the ponderous anchor's weighed; the shore is left behind,
The snowy sails are bosomed out before the favoring wind.
Across the warm blue Indian sea the vessel southward flies,
And once again the North Star fades and Austral beacons rise.
For home she steers I she seems to know and answer to the word,
And swifter skims the burnished deep, like some fair oceanbird.
'For home! for home!' the merry crew with gladsome voices cry,
And dark-browed Vanderdecken has a mild light in his eye.
But once again the Cape draws near, and furious billows rise;
And still the daring Dutchman's laugh the hurricane defies.
But wildly shrieked the tempest ere the scornful sound had died,
A warning to the daring man to curb his impious pride.
A crested mountain struck the ship, and like a frighted bird
She trembled 'neath the awful shock. Then Vanderdecken heard
A pleading voice.-within the gale,—his better angel spoke,
But fled before his scowling look, as mast-high mountains broke
Around the trembling vessel, till the crew with terror paled;
But Vanderdecken never flinched, nor 'neath the thunders quailed.
With folded arms and stern-pressed lips, dark anger in his eye,
He answered back the threatening frown that lowered o'er the sky.
With fierce defiance in his heart, and scornful look of flame,
He spoke, and thus with impious voice blasphemed God's holy name:
'Howl on, ye winds! ye tempests, howl! your rage is spent in vain:
Despite your strength, your frowns, your hate, I'll ride upon the main.
Defiance to your idle shrieks! I'll sail upon my path:
I cringe not for thy Maker's smile,—I care not for His wrath!'
He ceased. An awful silence fell; the tempest and the sea
Were hushed in sudden stillness by the Ruler's dread decree.
The ship was riding motionless within the gathering gloom;
The Dutchman stood upon the poop and heard his dreadful doom.
The hapless crew were on the deck in swooning terror prone,—
They, too, were bound in fearful fate. In angered thunder-tone
The judgment words swept o'er the sea: 'Go, wretch, accurst, condemned!
Go sail for ever on the deep, by shrieking tempests hemmed!
No home, no port, no calm, no rest, no gentle favoring breeze,
Shall ever greet thee. Go, accurst! and battle with the seas!
Go, braggart! struggle with the storm, nor ever cease to live,
But bear a million times the pangs that death and fear can give!
Away! and hide thy guilty head, a curse to all thy kind
Who ever see thee struggling, wretch, with ocean and with wind!
Away, presumptuous worm of earth! Go teach thy fellow worms
The awful fate that waits on him who braves the King of Storms!'
'Twas o'er. A lurid lightning flash lit up the sea and sky
Around and o'er the fated ship; then rose a wailing cry
From every heart within her, of keen anguish and despair;
But mercy was for them no more,—it died away in air.
Once more the lurid light gleamed out,—the ship was still at rest,
The crew were standing at their posts; with arms across his breast
Still stood the captain on the poop, but bent and crouching now
He bowed beneath that fiat dread, and o'er his swarthy brow
Swept lines of anguish, as if he a thousand years of pain
Had lived and suffered. Then across the heaving, angry main
The tempest shrieked triumphant, and the angry waters hissed
Their vengeful hate against the toy they oftentimes bad kissed.
And ever through the midnight storm that hapless crew must speed:
They try to round the stormy Cape, but never can succeed.
And oft when gales are wildest,, and the lightning's vivid sheen
Flashes back the ocean's anger, still the Phantom Ship is seen
Ever sailing to the southward in the fierce tornado's swoop,
With her ghostly crew and canvas, and her captain on the poop,
Unrelenting, unforgiven! and 'tis said that every word
Of his blasphemous defiance still upon the gale is heard!
But Heaven help the ship near which the dismal sailor steers,—
The doom of those is sealed to whom that Phantom Ship appears:
They'll never reach their destined port,—they'll see their homes no more,—
They who see the Flying Dutchman—never, never reach the shore!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Sailing Ships
(coverdale/vandenberg)
Do you remember
Standing on the shore,
Head in the clouds,
Your pockets filled with dreams
Bound for glory
On the seven seas of life,
But, the ocean is deeper than it seems
The wind was with you
When you left on the morning tide,
You set your sail for an island in the sun,
On the horizon, dark clouds up ahead,
For the storm has just begun
Take me with you,
Take me far away,
Lead me to the distant shore
Sail your ship across the water,
Spread your wings across the sky
Take the time to see
Youre the one who holds the key,
Or sailing ships will pass you by
You cry for mercy,
When you think youve lost your way,
You drift alone, if all your hope is gone
So find the strength and you will see
You control, your destiny,
After all is said and done
So take me with you,
Take me far away,
An lead me to the distant shore
Sail your ship across the water,
Spread your wings across the sky
Take the time to see
Youre the one who holds the key,
Or sailing ships will pass,
Sailing ships will pass you,
Sailing ships will pass you by...
Take me with you,
Take me far away,
Well ride the wind across the sky
Spread your wings and you will see
You control, your destiny,
So sailing ships dont pass you by
So take me with you,
Take me far away,
Well ride the wind across the sky
Spread your wings and you will see
You control, your destiny,
So sailing ships dont pass,
So sailing ships dont pass you,
So sailing ships dont pass you by...
Baby, baby, baby, baby,
Youll find that youre the only one
Can sail your ship across the sky
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cape Town
Cape Town
Is waiting for my return
So that I can go back to work
On my fishing boat
Cape Town
Is where I left my heart
During the winter months
Sleeping away
Until the summer arrives
So that I can go back
To cape Town
To wake up my heart
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Meganom
1
Still far the asphodels,
grey-transparent Spring.
Meanwhile, the sand rustles,
the wave foams.
But here, like Persephone,
my soul joins the gentle circle,
and in the realm of the dead,
there were no seductive, sunburnt arms.
2
Why do we trust the boat
with the heaviness of the funerary urn,
and conclude the festival of black roses
over amethystine water?
My soul rushes there,
to the cloudy cape of Meganom,
and from there the black sail will return
after the funeral.
3
How quickly clouds rush by
in a sunless row and
flakes of black roses drift
under this windy moon.
And, a bird of death and sobbing,
the enormous flag of remembrance
is dragged along the mournful border
behind a cypress stern.
4
The sorrowful fan of past years
unfolds with a rustle.
My soul rushes there,
to the cloudy cape of Meganom,
where with dark trembling,
an amulet was buried in the sand,
and from there the black sail will return
after the funeral.
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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To The Master Of The _Meteor_
Lonesome on earth's loneliest deep,
Sailor! who dost thy vigil keep--
Off the Cape of Storms dost musing sweep
Over monstrous waves that curl and comb;
Of thee we think when here from brink
We blow the mead in bubbling foam.
Of thee we think, in a ring we link;
To the shearer of ocean's fleece we drink,
And the _Meteor_ rolling home.
poem by Herman Melville
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Halcyon Days Of Our Teddy
Tranquil seas they oft' beckoned to me~
From the deep fathoms yes they did call~
Echo's of a peaceful sapphire ocean~
Reverberated against New Englands vast tidal wall;
Oh the days could be so idyllic~
As were the calm seas of yesterdays lore~
Where happiness 'twas e'er so deep and undeniable~
Back in the days of yore;
Oh the halcyon days upon the New England waters~
Sailing off cape Cod as in days and years before~
And at the wheel you could find me-'The Captain'
On my way 'cross the deeps Neptune ruled floor;
The salt air 'twas oh so invigorating~
Breathing in Cape Cods most salty breeze~
Sailing upon tranquilitys waters away from tragedy~
With so much serenity- it would bring me to my knees;
Now I am sailing upon the Sea Of Eternity~
The Shamrock sails are up and at the ready-the go~
Sail on-sail on- beloved Lion of our hearts~
You're now at peace with John, Bobby and your mother Rose...
Dedicated to:
Beloved Senator Edward M. Kennedy
Born February 22,1932
Died August 25,2009
Buried with his brothers John and Bobby
Arlington national Cemetary-Arlington Viginia
Gone but not forgotten.
We Love You!
poem by Theodora Onken
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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.
poem by Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There was an Old Man of the Cape,
Who possessed a large Barbary ape,
Till the ape one dark night
Set the house all alight,
Which burned that Old Man of the Cape.
quote by by Edward Lear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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