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Eastward from Campobello
     Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed:
Three days or more seaward he bore,
     Then, alas! the land-wind failed.

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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