Eastward from CampobelloAlas! the land-wind failed,
Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed:
Three days or more seaward he bore,
Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
And ice-cold grew the night;
And nevermore, on sea or shore,
Should Sir Humphrey see the light.
He sat upon the deck,
The Book was in his hand:
‘Do not fear! Heaven is as near,’
He said, ‘by water as by land!’
In the first watch of the night,
Without a signal's sound,
Out of the sea, mysteriously,
The fleet of Death rose all around.
The moon and the evening star
Were hanging in the shrouds;
Every mast, as it passed,
Seemed to rake the passing clouds.
They grappled with their prize,
At midnight black and cold:
As of a rock was the shock;
Heavily the ground-swell rolled.
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