But still the sea was mild, and quite disclaim’d
The recent violence.—Each after each
[Pg 44]
The gentle waves a gentle murmur framed,
Tapping, like Woodpeckers, the hollow beach.
Howbeit his weather eye the seaman aim’d
Across the calm, and hinted by his speech
A gale next morning—and when morning broke
There was a gale—“quite equal to bespoke.”
Before high water—(it were better far
To christen it not water then, but waiter,
For then the tide is serving at the bar)
Rose such a swell—I never saw one greater!
Black, jagged billows rearing up in war
Like ragged roaring bears against the baiter,
With lots of froth upon the shingle shed,
Like stout pour’d out with a fine beachy head.
No open boat was open to a fare,
Or launch’d that morn on seven-shilling trips;
No bathing woman waded—none would dare
A dipping in the wave—but waived their dips;
No seagull ventured on the stormy air,
And all the dreary coast was clear of ships;
For two lea shores upon the river Lea
Are not so perilous as one at sea.
Awe-struck we sat, and gazed upon the scene
Before us in such horrid hurly-burly,—
A boiling ocean of mix’d black and green,
A sky of copper colour, grim and surly,—
When lo, in that vast hollow scoop’d between
Two rolling Alps of water,—white and curly!
We saw a pair of little arms a-skimming,
Much like a first or last attempt at swimming!
[Pg 45]
Sometimes ............