No sort of sign there was that he Soon came a storm-the sea at first When lo! full crash, with billowy dash, Our stomachs we had just prepared When, gush! a flood of brine came down The skylight-quite a fountain, And right on end the table reared, Just like the Table Mountain. Down rushed the soup, down gushed the wine, Each roll, its role repeating, Rolled down-the round of beef declared For parting-not for meating! Off flew the fowls, and all the game Was "too far gone for eating!" Down knife and fork-down went the pork, The lamb too broke its tether; Down mustard went-each condiment Salt-pepper-all together! Down every thing, like craft that seek Down plunged the Lady of the Lake, She almost seemed about to take Down dropt the captain's nether jaw, He thought he saw the Evil One Playing at dice for soul and ship, Down fell the steward on his face, And candles to the Virgin vowed, Down fell the mate, he thought his fate, Down fell the cook-the cabin boy, Down fell the crew, and on their knees Down sunk the sun of bloody hue, Neptune, the God, seemed tossing in Sore, sore afraid, each Papist prayed But one there was that stood composed As stanch as rock, a true game cock 'Mid chicks of Mother Carey! His ruddy cheek retained its streak, His step still bold,—of mortal mould Relaxed at last the furious gale And as he walked to self he talked, Now whistling, and now humming "You're welcome, Charlie," "Cowdenknowes," "Kenmure," or "Campbells' Coming." Down went the wind, down went the wave, Fear quitted the most finical; The Saints, I wot, were soon forgot, And Hope was at the pinnacle: When rose on high, a frightful cry "The Devil's in the binnacle!" "The Saints be near," the helmsman cried, His voice with quite a falter "Steady's my helm, but every look The needle seems to alter; God only knows where China lies, Jamaica, or Gibraltar ! " The captain stared aghast at mate, Of Fiction the event is : But when they at the compass looked, It seemed non compass mentis. Now north, now south, now east, now west, The wavering point was shaken, 'T was past the whole philosophy Never by compass, till that hour, With fearful speech, each after each It seemed a new magnetic case Farewell to wives, farewell their lives, Oh! while they thought of girl or boy, All down the side which holds the heart, With deep amaze, the Stranger gazed No fancy-motion, brain-begot, The nervous finger of a sot Ne'er showed a plainer tremour; Mixed brown and blue each visage grew, Just like a pullet's gizzard; Meanwhile the captain's wandering wit, From tacking like an izzard, Bore down in this plain course at last, "It's Michael Scott-the Wizard!" A smile past o'er the ruddy face, I'm puzzled, friends, as much as you, Michael I'm not-although a Scott- Like oil it fell, that name, a spell The Captain's head (for he had read) And bowed to HIM in whom the North And when I speak My voice is weak, But hers-she makes a gong of it; |