Oh wish them ill, and wish them long To be as usual in the wrong In scheming for a chain too strong. So will the happy time arrive When coming home, if then alive, You'll see them to the devil drive. [166] From the 1815 edition. STANZAS[167] Written in Blackbeard's, the Pirate's, Castle, near the Town of St. Thomas, in the West Indies.--1799 The ancient knave, who raised these walls, Now to oblivion half resign'd-- His fortress to the mind recalls The nerve that stimulates mankind; When savage force exerts its part And ruffian blood commands the heart. This pirate, known to former days, The scourge of these unhappy climes, In this strong fabric thought to raise A monument to future times: To guard himself and guard his gold, Or shelter robbers, uncontrol'd. A standard on these walls he rear'd, And here he swore the oath profane, That by his god, and by his beard, Sole, independent, he would reign; And do his best to crush the sway Of legal right and honesty. Within these walls, and in these vaults, Of princely power and wealth possess'd, Dominion hung on all his thoughts, And here he hoped an age of rest; The wealth of princes flowing in That from the Spaniards he did win. He many a chief and captain awed, Or chain'd with fetters, foot and hand; Uncheck'd, his fleets he sent abroad, Commission gave, conferr'd command; And if his sailors skulk'd or fled, He made them shorter--by a head. Half Europe's flags he bade retire From ponderous guns he hurl'd the ball-- He fill'd his glass with liquid fire And drank damnation to them all: For many a year he held the sway And thousands at his mercy lay. Confiding in his castle's strength Mann'd by a fierce, heroic crew, He blunder'd on till they at length, The model of a city drew, Where he might reign and be obey'd, And be the tyrant of all trade. Vain hope! his fort neglected stands And, crumbling, hastens to decay;-- Where, once, he train'd his daring bands The stranger scarcely finds his way: The bushes in the castle grow Where once he menaced friend and foe. In this mysterious scene of things There must be laws or who could live? There must be laws to aid the wings Of those who on the ocean strive To earn by commerce, bold and free, The honest gains of industry. [167] Text from the 1815 edition. LINES WRITTEN AT SEA[168] No pleasure on earth can afford such delights, As the heavenly view of these tropical nights: The glow of the stars, and the breeze of the sea, Are heaven--if heaven on ocean can be.-- The star of old Cancer is right overhead, And the sun in the water has travelled to bed; He is gone, as some say, to recline at his ease, And not, like ourselves, to be pestered with fleas.