They suffered him, I know not how, Unprisoned on the shore to roam; And aye was bent his longing brow On England's home. His eye, methinks, pursued the flight Of birds to Britain half-way over With envy; _they_ could reach the white Dear cliffs of Dover. A stormy midnight watch, he thought, Than this sojourn would have been dearer, If but the storm his vessel brought To England nearer. At last, when care had banished sleep, He saw one morning--dreaming--doating, An empty hogshead from the deep Come shoreward floating; He hid it in a cave, and wrought The live-long day laborious; lurking Until he launched a tiny boat By mighty working. Heaven help us! 'twas a thing beyond Description, wretched: such a wherry Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond, Or crossed a ferry. For ploughing in the salt-sea field, It would have made the boldest shudder; Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, No sail--no rudder. From neighb'ring woods he interlaced His sorry skiff with wattled willows; And thus equipped he would have passed The foaming billows-- But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, His little Argo sorely jeering; Till tidings of him chanced to reach Napoleon's hearing. With folded arms Napoleon stood, Serene alike in peace and danger; And, in his wonted attitude, Addressed the stranger:-- 'Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned: Thy heart with some sweet British lass Must be impassioned.' 'I have no sweetheart,' said the lad; 'But--absent long from one another-- Great was the longing that I had To see my mother.' 'And so thou shalt,' Napoleon said, 'Ye've both my favour fairly won; A noble mother must have bred So brave a son.' He gave the tar a piece of gold, And, with a flag of truce, commanded He should be shipped to England Old, And safely landed. Our sailor oft could scantly shift To find a dinner, plain and hearty; But _never_ changed the coin and gift Of BonapartÈ. _Campbell._ LXVI 'YE MARINERS' Ye Mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.