252 BROWNING
Still the north-wind, by God's grace!
See the noble fellow's face,
As the big ship with a bound,
Clears the entry like a hound,
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide
seas profound !
See, safe thro' shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates
the ground,
Not a spar that comes to grief ! The peril, see, is past, All are harboured to the last, And just as Herv Riel hollas 'Anchor!' sure as
fate Up the English come, too late !
So, the storm subsides to calm :
They see the green trees wave
On the o'erlooking Greve. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 'Just our rapture to enhance,
Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance,
As they cannonade away ! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the
Ranee ! '
How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's coun- tenance ! Out burst all with one accord,
'This is Paradise for Hell!
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