Classic Poem

The raging tempest, roaring seas,
Have trump'd the tar's renown,
As if our land's-men liv'd at ease,
Nor toil'd for glory's crown;
But sure they too may loyal prove,
And feel the gentle flame of love.

The foaming billows dreadful swell,
The tar's repose alarms;
The bugle sounding for his knell,
The land's-man wakes to arms;
Not for himself the crown to wear
But for his country, and the fair.

The rampart's crested top he mounts,
Midst cannon's dreadful roar,
Grim visag'd war as naught he counts,
Whilst to bright fame he'd soar;
Tho' clouds of smoke obscure the way,
When honour calls he will obey.

Plac'd on the mine he calm surveys,
Volcanes burst around,
Undaunted braves the howling blaze,
That rends the gaping ground;
Love's flame alone disturbs his breast,
Then smile you fair, and he'll be blest.