The Castaway
by William Cowper
|
Obscurest night involved the
sky, |
The Atlantic
billows roared, |
When such a destined wretch as
I, |
Washed headlong
from on board, |
Of friends, of hope, of all
bereft, |
His floating home for ever
left.
|
No braver chief could Albion
boast |
Than he with whom
he went, |
Nor ever ship left Albion's
coast, |
With warmer wishes
sent. |
He loved them both, but both in
vain, |
Nor him beheld, nor her again.
|
Not long beneath the
whelming brine, |
Expert to swim, he
lay; |
Nor soon he felt his strength
decline, |
Or courage die
away; |
But waged with death a lasting
strife, |
Supported by despair of life.
|
He shouted: nor his friends had
failed |
To check the
vessel's course, |
But so the furious blast
prevailed, |
That, pitiless
perforce, |
They left their outcast mate
behind, |
And scudded still before the
wind.
|
Some succour yet they could
afford; |
And, such as
storms allow, |
The cask, the coop, the floated
cord, |
Delayed not to
bestow. |
But he (they knew) nor ship,
nor shore, |
Whate'er they gave, should
visit more.
|
Nor, cruel as it seemed, could
he |
Their haste
himself condemn, |
Aware that flight, in such a
sea, |
Alone could rescue
them; |
Yet bitter felt it still to die |
Deserted, and his friends so
nigh.
|
He long survives, who lives an
hour |
In ocean,
self-upheld; |
And so long he, with unspent
power, |
His destiny
repelled; |
And ever, as the minutes flew, |
Entreated help, or cried -
Adieu!
|
At length, his transient
respite past, |
His comrades, who
before |
Had heard his voice in every
blast, |
Could catch the
sound no more. |
For then, by toil subdued, he
drank |
The stifling wave, and then he
sank.
|
No poet wept him: but the page |
Of narrative
sincere, |
That tells his name, his worth,
his age, |
Is wet with
Anson's tear. |
And tears by bards or heroes
shed |
Alike immortalize the dead.
|
I therefore purpose not, or
dream, |
Descanting on his
fate, |
To give the melancholy theme |
A more enduring
date: |
But misery still delights to
trace |
Its semblance in another's
case.
|
No voice divine the storm
allayed, |
No light
propitious shone; |
When, snatched from all
effectual aid, |
We perished, each
alone: |
But I beneath a rougher sea, |
And whelmed in deeper gulfs
than he. |
William Cowper
| Classic Poems |
|
[ The Castaway ] [ Epitaph on a Hare ] [ Light shining out of darkness ] [ The Poplar-Field ] |