Classic Poem

DESIGNED FOR A TOMB IN A SEAPORT TOWN IN NORTH WALES .

Sailor ! if vigour nerve thy frame,
If to high deeds thy soul is strung,
Revere this stone that gives to fame
The brave, the virtuous, and the young! —

For manly beauty decked his form,
His bright eye beamed with mental power;
Resistless as the winter storm,
Yet mild as summer's mildest shower.

In war's hoarse rage, in ocean's strife,
For skill, for force, for mercy known;
Still prompt to shield a comrade's life,
And greatly careless of his own. —

Yet youthful seaman, mourn not thou
The fate these artless lines recall;
No, Cambrian, no, be thine the vow,
Like him to live, like him to fall! —

But hast thou known a father's care,
Who sorrowing sent thee forth to sea;
Poured for thy weal th' unceasing prayer,
And thought the sleepless night on thee?

Has e'er thy tender fancy flown,
When winds were strong and waves were high,
Where, listening to the tempest's moan,
Thy sisters heaved the anxious sigh?

Or, in the darkest hour of dread,
Mid war's wild din, and ocean's swell,
Hast mourned a hero brother dead,
And did that brother love thee well? —

Then pity those whose sorrows flow
In vain o'er Shipley's empty grave! —
Sailor, thou weep'st: — Indulge thy wo;
Such tears will not disgrace the brave! —