[Page 131]

The Hurricane.

1 WHat cheer my Mates? Luff ho! We Toil in Vain!
2 That Nothern Mist forebodes a Hurricane.
3 See how th'expecting Ocean Raves,
4 The Billows Roar before the Fray,
5 Untimely Night devours the Day,
6 I'th' Dead Eclypse we Nought descry
7 But Lightnings Wild Capriches in the Skie,
8 And Scalye Monsters sparkling through the Waves.
9 Ply! Each a Hand, and furl your Sails.
10 Port, Hard a'Port The Tackle sails.
11 Sound ho! Five Fathom and the most.
12 A Dangerous Shelf! sh'as struck, and we are Lost.
13 Speak in the Hold She Leaks amain Give ore;
14 The Crazy Boat can Work no more.
[Page 132]
15 She draws apace, and we approach no shore.
16 A Ring my Mates: Let's joyn a Ring, and so
17 Beneath the Deep Embracing Go.
18 Now to new Worlds we steer, and quickly shall Arrive:
19 Our Spirits shall Mount as fast as our dull Corpses Dive


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About this text

Title (in Source Edition): The Hurricane.
Author: Nahum Tate

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Source edition

Tate, Nahum, c. 1652-1715. Poems by N. Tate. London: Printed by T.M. for Benj. Tooke ..., 1677, pp. 131-132. [15],133p. (Page images digitized from a copy in the Bodleian Library [Harding C 2953].)

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