The later poems of John Clare 1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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BANTRY BAY |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
BANTRY BAY
On the eighteenth of October
We lay in Bantry Bay
All ready to set sail
With a fresh and steady gale
A fortnight and nine days
We in the harbour lay
And no breeze e'r reached us
Or strained a single sail
Three ships of war had we
And the great guns loaded all
But our ships were dead and beaten
That had never feared a foe
The wind becalmed around us
Car'd for no cannon ball
They locked us in the harbour
And would not let us go
We lay in Bantry Bay
All ready to set sail
With a fresh and steady gale
A fortnight and nine days
We in the harbour lay
And no breeze e'r reached us
Or strained a single sail
716
And the great guns loaded all
But our ships were dead and beaten
That had never feared a foe
The wind becalmed around us
Car'd for no cannon ball
They locked us in the harbour
And would not let us go
On the nineteenth of October
By eleven of the clock
The sky turned black as midnight
And a sudden storm came on
Awful and sudden
And the cables felt the shock
Our anchors they all broke away
And every stay was gone
The guns fired off amid the strife
But little hope had we
The billows broke above the ship
And left us all below
The crew with one consent cried
Bear further out to sea
But the waves obeyed no sailors call
And we knew not where to go
By eleven of the clock
The sky turned black as midnight
And a sudden storm came on
Awful and sudden
And the cables felt the shock
Our anchors they all broke away
And every stay was gone
The guns fired off amid the strife
But little hope had we
The billows broke above the ship
And left us all below
The crew with one consent cried
Bear further out to sea
But the waves obeyed no sailors call
And we knew not where to go
She foundered on a rock
While we clambered up the shrouds
And staggered like a mountain drunk
Wedged in the waves almost
The red hot boiling billows
Foamed in the stooping clouds
And in that fatal tempest
The whole ships crew were lost
Have pitty for poor Mariners
Ye landsmen in a storm
O' think what they endure at sea
While safe at home you stay
All ye that sleep on beds at night
In houses dry and warm
O' think upon the whole ships crew
All lost at Bantry Bay
While we clambered up the shrouds
And staggered like a mountain drunk
Wedged in the waves almost
The red hot boiling billows
Foamed in the stooping clouds
And in that fatal tempest
The whole ships crew were lost
Have pitty for poor Mariners
Ye landsmen in a storm
O' think what they endure at sea
717
All ye that sleep on beds at night
In houses dry and warm
O' think upon the whole ships crew
All lost at Bantry Bay
| The later poems of John Clare | |