27 Jul 99 - 03:09 PM (#99832)
Subject: Lyr Add: NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH SAILOR
From: katlaughing
Misnamed, by me, in the saddest songs thread. This is the other poem I thought people might want to see and perhaps find a tune for it. Thanks, kat
NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH SAILOR
I love contemplating - apart From all his homicidal glory The traits that soften to our heart Napoleon's story!
"'Twas when his banners at Boulogne Arm'd in our island every freeman, His navy chanced to capture one Poor British seaman.
They suffer'd him, I know not how, Unprison'd on the shore to roam; Ad aye was bent his longing brow On England's home.
His eye, methinks! pursued the flight Of birds to Britain halfway over; With envy they could reach the white Dear cliffs of Dover.
A stormy, midnight watch, he thought, Than this sojourn would have been dearer If but the storm his vessel brought To England nearer.
At last, when care had banished sleep, He saw one morning - dreaming - doting, An empty hogshead from the deep Come shoreward floating.
He hid it in a cave, and wrought The live-long day laborious; lurking Until he launched a tiny boat By mighty working.
Heaven help us! 'twas such a thing beyond Description wretched; such a wherry Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond, Or crossed a ferry.
Far ploughing in the salt-sea field, It would have made the boldest shudder; Untarr'd, uncompass'd, and unkeel'd, No sail, - no rudder.
From neighb'ring woods he interlaced His sorry skiff with wattled willow; And thus equipped he would have pass'd The foaming billows.
But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, His little Argo sorely jeering; Tidings of him chanced to reach, Napoleon's hearing.
With folded arms Napoleon stood, Serene alike in peace and danger; And, in his wonted attitude, Addressed the stranger:-
"Rash man, that would'st yon Channle pass, On twigs and staves so rudely fashion'd; Thy heart with some sweet British lass Must be impassion'd."
"I have no sweetheart," said the lad; "But absent long from one another - Great was my longing that I had To see my mother."
"And so thou shalt," Napoleon said; "Ye've both my favor fairly won; A noble mother must have bred So brave a son.
He gave the tar a piece of gold, And, with a flag of truce commanded, He should be shipped to England old, And safely landed.
Our sailor oft could scantly shift To find a dinner, plain and hearty; But never changed the coin and gift, of Bonaparte. - Thomas Campbell -
Copied from my great-great aunt's book, "Home Book of Poetry" given to her for Christmas in 1882.
kat
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