| OBSCUREST night involved the sky, | |
| The Atlantic billows roared, | |
| When such a destined wretch as I, | |
| Washed headlong from on board, | |
| Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, | 5 |
| His floating home for ever left. | |
| |
| No braver chief could Albion boast | |
| Than he with whom he went, | |
| Nor ever ship left Albion’s coast | |
| With warmer wishes sent. | 10 |
| He loved them both, but both in vain, | |
| Nor him beheld, nor her again. | |
| |
| Not long beneath the whelming brine, | |
| Expert to swim, he lay; | |
| Nor soon he felt his strength decline, | 15 |
| Or courage die away; | |
| But waged with death a lasting strife, | |
| Supported by despair of life. | |
| |
| He shouted: nor his friends had failed | |
| To check the vessel’s course, | 20 |
| But so the furious blast prevailed | |
| That, pitiless perforce, | |
| They left their outcast mate behind, | |
| And scudded still before the wind. | |
| |
| Some succour yet they could afford; | 25 |
| And such as storms allow, | |
| The cask, the coop, the floated cord, | |
| Delayed not to bestow. | |
| But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore, | |
| Whate’er they gave, should visit more. | 30 |
| |
| Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he | |
| Their haste himself condemn, | |
| Aware that flight, in such a sea, | |
| Alone could rescue them; | |
| Yet bitter felt it still to die | 35 |
| Deserted, and his friends so nigh. | |
| |
| He long survives, who lives an hour | |
| In ocean, self-upheld; | |
| And so long he, with unspent power, | |
| His destiny repelled; | 40 |
| And ever, as the minutes flew, | |
| Entreated help, or cried ‘Adieu!’ | |
| |
| At length, his transient respite past, | |
| His comrades, who before | |
| Had heard his voice in every blast, | 45 |
| Could catch the sound no more: | |
| For then, by toil subdued, he drank | |
| The stifling wave, and then he sank. | |
| |
| No poet wept him; but the page | |
| Of narrative sincere, | 50 |
| That tells his name, his worth, his age | |
| Is wet with Anson’s tear: | |
| And tears by bards or heroes shed | |
| Alike immortalize the dead. | |
| |
| I therefore purpose not, or dream, | 55 |
| Descanting on his fate, | |
| To give the melancholy theme | |
| A more enduring date: | |
| But misery still delights to trace | |
| Its semblance in another’s case. | 60 |
| |
| No voice divine the storm allayed, | |
| No light propitious shone, | |
| When, snatched from all effectual aid, | |
| We perished, each alone: | |
| But I beneath a rougher sea, | 65 |
| And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he. | |