English poem
THE SAILOR's MEDLEY, SONG
by Anonymous
How poor is the man, tho' he wealth should possess Who the impulse of pity ne'er knew! But unfeeling could hear the sad tale of distress, And with-hold from misfortune its due.
The elements rigour much sooner I'd brave, Which my vessel on foul ground should strand; Or in Biscay's rough bay meet a wat'ry grave, Than I'd take such a wretch by the hand.