"Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!"
The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the north-east;
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.


[Illustration]

[Illustration]

[Illustration]


Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.


[Illustration]


"Come hither! come hither, my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale,