Classic Poem

TIME , Evening .

JOHN .

'T IS a calm, pleasant evening; the light fades away,
And the sun going down has done watch for the day.
To my mind we live wondrous well when transported;
It is but to work, and we must be supported.
Fill the can, Dick! Success here to Botany Bay!

RICHARD .

Success, if you will, — but God send me away!

JOHN .

You lubberly landsmen don't know when you're well!
Hadst thou known half the hardships of which I can tell!
The sailor has no place of safety in store;
From the tempest at sea, to the press-gang on shore!
When Roguery rules all the rest of the earth,
God be thank'd, in this corner I've got a good berth.

SAMUEL .

Talk of hardships! what these are the sailor don't know;
'Tis the soldier, my friend, that's acquainted with woe;
Long journeys, short halting, hard work, and small pay,
To be popt at like pigeons for sixpence a day! —
Thank God I'm safe quarter'd at Botany Bay.

JOHN .

Ah! you know but little: I'll wager a pot
I have suffer'd more evils than fell to your lot.
Come, we'll have it all fairly and properly tried,
Tell story for story, and Dick shall decide.

SAMUEL .

Done.

JOHN .

Done. 'Tis a wager, and I shall be winner;
Thou wilt go without grog, Sam, to-morrow at dinner.

SAMUEL .

I was trapp'd by the Sergeant's palavering pretences,
He listed me when I was out of my senses;
So I took leave to-day of all care and all sorrow,
And was drill'd to repentance and reason to-morrow.

JOHN .

I would be a sailor, and plough the wide ocean,
But was soon sick and sad with the billows' commotion;
So the boatswain he sent me aloft on the mast,
And cursed me, and bade me cry there, — and hold fast!

SAMUEL .

After marching all day, faint and hungry sore,
I have lain down at night on the swamps of
Unshelter'd and forced by fatigue to remain,
All chill'd by the wind and benumb'd by the rain.

JOHN .

I have rode out the storm when the billows beat high,
And the red gleaming lightnings flash'd throng the dark sky;
When the tempest of night the black sea overcast
Wet and weary I labor'd, yet sung to the blast.

SAMUEL .

I have march'd, trumpets sounding, drums beating, flags flying,
Where the music of war drown'd the shrieks of the dying;
When the shots whizz'd around me, all danger defied;
Push'd on when my comrades fell dead at my side
Drove the foe from the mouth of the cannon away
Fought, conquer'd, and bled, all for sixpence a-day.

JOHN .

And I too, friend Samuel, have heard the shot rattle!
But we seamen rejoice in the play of the battle;
Though the chain and the grape-shot roll splintering around,
With the blood of our messmates though slipper the ground,
The fiercer the fight, still the fiercer we grow;
We heed not our loss, so we conquer the foe;
And the hard battle won, if the prize be not sunk
The Captain gets rich, and the Sailors get drunk.

SAMUEL

God help the poor soldier when backward he goes
In disgraceful retreat, through a country of foes
No respite from danger by day or by night,
He is still forced to fly, still o'ertaken to fight;
Every step that he takes he must battle his way;
He must force his hard meal from the peasant away
No rest, and no hope, from all succor afar, —
God forgive the poor soldier for going to the war.

JOHN .

But what are these dangers to those I have past
When the dark billows roar'd to the roar of the blast;
When we work'd at the pumps, worn with labor and weak,
And with dread still beheld the increase of the leak
Sometimes as we rose on the wave could our sigh
From the rocks of the shore, catch the light-house light;
In vain to the beach to assist us they press
We fire faster and faster our guns of distress;
Still with rage unabating the wind and waves roar; —
How the giddy wreck reels, as the billows burst o'er
Leap, leap; for she yawns, for she sinks in the wave!
Call on God to preserve — for God only can save!

SAMUEL .

There's an end of all troubles, however, at last!
And when I in the wagon of wounded was cast,
When my wounds with the chilly night-wind smarted sore,
And I thought of the friends I should never see more,
No hand to relieve, scarce a morsel of bread,
Sick at heart I have envied the peace of the dead.
Left to rot in a jail, till by treaty set free,
Old England's white cliffs with what joy did I see!
I had gain'd enough glory, some wounds, but no good,
And was turn'd on the public to shift how I could.
" When I think what I've suffer'd, and where I am now,
I curse him who snared me away from the plough.

JOHN .

When I was discharged, I went home to my wife,
There in comfort to spend all the rest of my life.
My wife was industrious; we earn'd what we spent,
And though little we had, were with little content;
And whenever I listen'd and heard the wind roar,
I bless'd God for my little snug cabin on shore.
At midnight they seized me, they dragg'd me away,
They wounded me sore when I would not obey,
And because for my country I'd ventured my life,
I was dragg'd like a thief from my home and my wife.
Then the fair wind of fortune chopt round in my face,
And want at length drove me to guilt and disgrace.
But all's for the best; — on the world's wide sea cast,
I am haven'd in peace in this corner at last.

SAMUEL .

Come, Dick! we have done — and for judgment we call.

RICHARD .

And in faith, I can give you no judgment at all,
But that as you're now settled, and safe from foul weather,
You drink up your grog, and be merry together.