A Shipman was there, living far by west;
For aught I know, he was of Dartmouth.
He rode upon a rouncy, as he could,
In a gown of falding to the knee.
A dagger hanging on a lace had he
About his neck, under his arm, and down.
The hot summer had made his hue all brown;
And certainly he was a good fellow.
Full many a draft of wine had he draw.
From Bordeaux-ward, while that the chapman sleep.
Of nice conscience took he no keep.
If that he fought and had the higher hand,
By water he sent them home to every land.
But of his craft to reckon well his tides,
His steams, and his dangers him besides,
His harbor, and his moon, his pilotage,
There was none such from Hull to Carthage.
Hardy was he and wise to undertake;
With many a tempest had his beard been shake.
He knew all the havens, as they were,
From Gotland to the cape of Finisterre,
And every creek in Brittany and in Spain.
His barge was called the Madelene.


© 2009 Forrest Hainline

Forrest Hainline

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