The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne like thy bubbles, onward. From a boy I wantoned with thy breakers, they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear; For I was as it were a child of thee,

And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane, as I do here. George Gordon (Lord) Byron

THE CALL OF THE SEVEN SEAS

I hear the call of the wanderlust,

And God knows why, but go I must;

Until my bones are drifting dust

I'll follow the sea-gull's cry.

The bow-wash song to the dog-watch bell, The kick o' the wheel and the chantey's spell Get hold of a man in spite o' Hell,

And a better man than I!

I've ranged and rogued and I've done my bit;
I've danced the dance and I've paid for it;
I've turned my heel on the Scripture's writ
In the lure of an alien eye.

But I set no store in the likes o' these;
I want the sweep of the Seven Seas,
The mainsail-haul to a biting breeze
And a star to steer me by!

I'VE BEEN DREAMIN'

And yet the old dream comes to me
Of a quiet home where I would be
Beyond the trackless miles o' the sea

And the far-blown clouds o' foam.
My homeland's call sets me astir
With hopes as brave as once they were,

And my heart cries out to the cry of her, —
For she calls me, this time, home!

Kendall Banning

"I'VE BEEN DREAMIN' ”

I've been dreamin',

13

Of a randy, dandy clipper with her tops'ls set, Pitchin' heavy down the westin' with the leeches

wet.

Billy Newland, the old skipper, from his high bridge

head,

Shoutin' to us packet rats an' these the words he said:

"Hop along, now! Loose them 'gallants! Skip aloft, now! Jump along!"

Oh, them packet rats were swearin' an' a-breakin' into song!

Packet rats a-roarin', "Ranzo," rats a-singin', "Roll an' Go,"

Haulin' on them 'gallant braces, cryin', "Blow, boys, blow!"

Let her blow for Frisco city!

Let the dandy clipper race!
For them swingin' feet an' pretty

Of the gals at Tony's place.

Soon we'll see old Tony smilin',
Hear his gals begin to sing,
Hear old Billy Dick beguilin'

Music from a fiddle-string!

Oh, there's drowned an' perished clippers
An' there's rats that died

But there's gals wi' flowered slippers
An' their skirts flung wide!

Did you say there ain't no clippers? Did you say them days is done?

Days of packet rats an' packets, an' stars an' moon an' sun?

O' lights upon the water, a-shinin' on the sea?
My God, but I'm a packet rat!

What will become of me?

I've got to see tall clippers, I've got to sing an' shout When the 'gallants are mastheaded and the jibs are runnin' out.

I've got to roar of "Ranzo,” an' "Blow, my bullies, blow!"

When the ice-cakes heap a-cracklin', an' the Horn is lost in snow.

I wants them lights by Frisco, an' lights by Salem

too,

And dandy skippers swearin' at the signin' of the

crew.

Red Jacket's gone? And Dancin' Wave? Guidin' Star as well?

Then what of Golden Era?... God help me! This is hell!

Good-by, farewell, kedge anchor! The shoals lie deep about;

The packet rats are singin', an' their chorus dyin'

out.

The clippers lie a-westin' where the westin' sun burns red,

An' the packet rats are restin' in the havens of the dead.

Good-by to Dame Romancing an' her dainty feathered frock!

Good-by to all the laughter at the swingin' of the lock!

Good-by to capstan payments, good-by to ships at

(A Reminiscence of "Treasure Island")

"The Dead Man's Chest," as is known to exceeding few, is the name of a treacherous sunken reef in the Caribbean Sea. The legend upon which Mr. Allison has based his remarkable poem is to the effect that during that flourishing period of piracy on the " Spanish Main "in the seventeenth century a Spanish galleon, returning home heavily laden with treasure, was raided by a piratical crew who made every man-jack aboard her walk the plank and then fell to fighting among themselves over the division of the loot. The result of this "free for all " was that fifteen husky cutthroats set their less powerful companions adrift in the long-boat with just enough fresh water and sea-biscuit to last them until they reached the mainland. The fifteen worthies left in possession of the gal

leon and its treasure, being no better able to agree among themselves as to its division than their luckless companions whom they had abandoned, started in turn a fight among themselves which resulted in the death of all. The galleon drifted derelict on the Dead Man's Chest, where she was subsequently discovered by those members of the crew who had been set adrift. And it is the bo's'n's mate who tells the story of the sight which met their eyes as they clambered up the side. - R. F.

Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Drink and the Devil had done for the rest-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

The mate was fixed by the bos'n's pike,
The bos'n brained with a marlinspike,
And cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped

By fingers ten;

And there they lay,

All good dead men,

Like break-o'-day in a boozing-ken-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Fifteen men of a whole ship's list
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Dead and be-damned and the rest gone whist!-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

The skipper lay with his nob in gore

Where the scullion's ax his cheek had shore-
And the scullion he was stabbed times four:
And there they lay,

And the soggy skies
Dripped all day long

In up-staring eyes