Re-Echoed.

Wyeth, N.C., Elizabethan Galleons, 1924

THE GALLEON

And at the last

They took the timbers next the old ship's heart,

And carved a stately chair, and set it up

By Oxford town, in Bodley's library.

Where some declare her spirit haunts the place

In gentle guise, so that if one should come

To seek for rest and wisdom, he shall find

Such treasure as he'd miss in many books

And going forth, renewed in faith and hope,

Prevail against a world of obstacles

As she prevailed, what time she strove, and set

A girdle round the earth.

She was launched in Merrie England, in a world ablaze with Spring,

And in brave and ancient fashion did they make her "hallowing."

Stretched her aching limbs, rejoicing in the freedom she had won.

And "I pray for happy guidance," cried the little galleon.

Now the lodestone lay and listened, who is old as he is wise.

For he whispers to the rudder where a galleon's pathway lies;

Swung him round, to give her comfort, looking North across the sea,

And "Your Ladyship," he answered," take a birthday gift from me.

"Doubt's a shifty kind of helmsman, and a rogue from truck to keel.

And he'll steer you to disaster ev'ry time he takes the wheel.

Follow fear and find a phantom, but to exorcise the wraith,

Take a fussy fogey's blessing, which the sailor men call Faith."

So she steered her to the South'ard as the lodestone bade her steer,

And behold, there soon beset her both the villains doubt and fear;

For, to wreck the great adventure and to bring her grief and shame,

As, in sooth it might be Judas, so the traitor Doughty came.

But by faith she held her purpose, and I pray such faith be mine,

Till she came to Port San Julian, far away below the Line.

And by faith she bare her sorrow, and by faith she fought despair,

Shadow'd by Magellan's gallows, and — she left the traitor there.

From a wet and weeping sunset to a rude and angry morn

Tramped the South Atlantic rollers, curled and crested by the Horn -

Gave her grey and gloomy greeting as they hove and hurried on ;

And "I pray for strength to conquer," cried the little galleon.

And the "roaring forties" heard her, and they gazed at her agape.

Where they bind the seas together, stretching taut from Cape to Cape;

Well they know the grey-backed rollers, crest to hollow through and through.

And "Your Ladyship," they hailed her, "we've a birthday gift for you.

"Never fear the old grey rollers, meet them boldly as you go,

They be sent to lift a galleon from the dreary troughs below.

For the purchase block is doubled when there's courage on the rope;

O'er the conquered crests of trouble gleam the rainbow rays of Hope.'

One by one each sullen roller passed her, stronger, to his mates

Till they left her, at the portals of the dread Magellan Straits,

To the mercies of the Island where the fire and demons be,

And Tierra del Fuego lit her through to open sea.

Then in faith and hope she struggled, where the Horn, beneath her feet,

Rules the riot in the roadway as the rival oceans meet.

Three and fifty days she battled — such a fight was never known —

Till the lodestone led her Northward and she came into her own.

Followed fast, in new-born wonder, and she got her wealth and fame.

Till the land was filled with laughter and the terror of her name;

All pursuing, left pursuers, mocked their bravest and their best.

And she cried ,"The world encompassed," as the lodestone led her West,

Now a rocky reef lay waiting, he whose falsehoods never cease:

"You have wealth and fame a plenty, come and wait awhile in peace."

And it may be she was weary, or was lulled by perils past,

For his wicked weedy shoulders caught and held the galleon fast.

But the mother sea was watching, who has pity past behef,

And her bosom heaved in sorrow where she marked the sunken reef.

''Faith and hope may sink to slumber when they sail with careless ease.

And I fain would give my daughter what is greater far than these."

So the old sea sang of England, Merrie England in the Spring,

Of the daffodils that garlanded a galleon's hallowing.

Till the voice of England, calling, waked — a galleon on a shoal

Who had held the world to ransom, but was like to lose her soul.

Then she saw what it shall profit, and she cast into the deep

Wealth of silver, silk and spices, "as would make a miser weep."

And the gentle sea, rejoicing, took her daughter to her breast

With a love past understanding, and she found what men call rest.

Knew the joy that's all-abiding, which may come to these alone

Who, in perfect self -surrender, find a strength beyond their own:

Spread her snowy wings in gladness at the secret she had won,

And "His mercy aye endureth," cried the little galleon.

There's a sturdy seaman's statue, and it stands on Plymouth Hoe,

Where the bowling green re-echoed to his message long ago;

And his eyes are lit with laughter, and his hair is crisp and curled,

As he gazes out to seaward with his hand upon the world.

And if fortune find you worthy to be with him, heart and mind.

Safely anchored off his Island, you shall see the Golden Hind.

Admiral Ronald A. Hopwood