The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop ... To Which are Prefixed, Memoirs of the Life of the Author By the Rev. Thomas Clare |
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 | The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop |  |
179
THE PRIVATEER.
A Privateer!—and my first cruise!
I wonder who'd stand in my shoes!—
But since I'm in for't, I'll push through,
Drive right a-head, and gunnel to.
What tho' this noddle never harbour'd
A thought of larboard or of starboard,
I bring, if not a seaman's skill,
At all events a tar's good will;
If not thin breeches, a light heart;—
And mere hap-hazard is my chart.
I wonder who'd stand in my shoes!—
But since I'm in for't, I'll push through,
Drive right a-head, and gunnel to.
What tho' this noddle never harbour'd
A thought of larboard or of starboard,
I bring, if not a seaman's skill,
At all events a tar's good will;
If not thin breeches, a light heart;—
And mere hap-hazard is my chart.
Your Admiral ships, with white, blue, red
Broad pennons at the top-mast head,
Affect to hold us cheap;—and sneer.—
—“Marry come up!” quoth Privateer:—
“Who was the first that led a crew
“Of heroes privateering?—Who?—
“'Twas Captain Jason of the Argo;
“And he brought home a golden cargo;—
“Which Greece long brag'd, and Poets wrote on,
“Ere Admirals were born, or thought on.”
Broad pennons at the top-mast head,
180
—“Marry come up!” quoth Privateer:—
“Who was the first that led a crew
“Of heroes privateering?—Who?—
“'Twas Captain Jason of the Argo;
“And he brought home a golden cargo;—
“Which Greece long brag'd, and Poets wrote on,
“Ere Admirals were born, or thought on.”
Your forward folk, who love to prate,
Our worth and valour under-rate;
Because adventures we commence,
Less for the honor, than the pence:—
But, if strict truth from fame we learn,
We need not drop so much astern:
Those who for glory hack and maul so,
Yet like a spell of plunder also:—
To plunder we confess affection;
If glory comes—'tis no objection.
They have the windward 'tis agreed,
In rank at least, if not in deed.
Our worth and valour under-rate;
Because adventures we commence,
Less for the honor, than the pence:—
But, if strict truth from fame we learn,
We need not drop so much astern:
Those who for glory hack and maul so,
Yet like a spell of plunder also:—
To plunder we confess affection;
If glory comes—'tis no objection.
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In rank at least, if not in deed.
Four Virtues Cardinal we call;—
And Privateers-men have them all.
And Privateers-men have them all.
First Justice—for it is, you know,
Their maxim, to give blow for blow!
Their maxim, to give blow for blow!
Next Temperance—none of mortal brood
Live more on hope—and hope's thin food!
Live more on hope—and hope's thin food!
Then Fortitude—for 'tis their duty
To stand hard knocks, ere they share booty!
To stand hard knocks, ere they share booty!
Last Prudence—for they never care
How few those knocks; how large that share!
How few those knocks; how large that share!
I've heard my nurse (if 'tis no crime
To quote one's nurse) say many a time;
“My child, wherever fate shall shove ye,
“Help yourself, and your friends will love ye!”
This doctrine Privateers pursue;
And make improvements on it too:—
Whene'er in proper time and place,
They find fit objects of their chace,
They help themselves to all comes near 'em,
To make their friends the more revere 'em!
And more than that—to make foes fear 'em,
They help themselves to all comes near 'em!
To quote one's nurse) say many a time;
“My child, wherever fate shall shove ye,
“Help yourself, and your friends will love ye!”
This doctrine Privateers pursue;
And make improvements on it too:—
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They find fit objects of their chace,
They help themselves to all comes near 'em,
To make their friends the more revere 'em!
And more than that—to make foes fear 'em,
They help themselves to all comes near 'em!
The Navy gents expect their pay,
Full when they serve; half, when they play:
But we on no such terms advance;
A kind of forlorn hope of chance:
We pocket pelf, or take dry thumps,
Just as dame Fortune turns up trumps;
With now scarce purse-room for our gains;
And now our labour for our pains.
Full when they serve; half, when they play:
But we on no such terms advance;
A kind of forlorn hope of chance:
We pocket pelf, or take dry thumps,
Just as dame Fortune turns up trumps;
With now scarce purse-room for our gains;
And now our labour for our pains.
One circumstance indeed there is,
For ever in our favour—viz:
Come fight—come flight—whate'er ensues,
They lose not—who have nought to lose.
For ever in our favour—viz:
Come fight—come flight—whate'er ensues,
They lose not—who have nought to lose.
183
Lose! did I say?—'twas most absurd!—
How could I utter such a word?—
“Win and wear all,” that can be got to,
Is every Privateer-man's motto!
And I, for my own part, avow,
(Your scholar long, your sailor now,)
I'll ne'er, if this your smiles obtain,
Speak—or ev'n think of Loss again.
How could I utter such a word?—
“Win and wear all,” that can be got to,
Is every Privateer-man's motto!
And I, for my own part, avow,
(Your scholar long, your sailor now,)
I'll ne'er, if this your smiles obtain,
Speak—or ev'n think of Loss again.
| The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop | |