The Singing Mariner

Who will ever have again, On the land or on the main, Such a chance as happen’d to Count Arnaldos long ago.

With his falcon in his hand, Forth he went along the strand; There he saw a galley gay, Briskly bearing for the bay.

Ask me not her name and trade,— All the sails of silk were made; He who steer’d the ship along Raised his voice, and sang a song.

Sang a song whose magic force Calm’d the breaker in its course; While the fishes, sore amazed, Left their holes and upward gazed.

And the fowl came flocking fast, Round the summit of the mast; Still he sang to wind and wave: “God preserve my vessel brave!

“Guard her from the rocks that grow ’Mid the sullen deep below; From the gust, and from the breeze, Sweeping through Gibtarek’s seas.

“From the gulf of Venice too, With its shoals and waters blue; Where the mermaid chants her hymn, Borne upon the billow’s brim.”

Forward stept Arnaldos bold, Thus he spake, as I am told: “Teach me, sailor, I entreat, Yonder song that sounds so sweet.”

But the sailor shook his head, Shook it thrice, and briefly said: “Never will I teach the strain But to him who ploughs the main.”