174 [Proc. B.N.F.C., 



" Rule Britannia " sung the crew, 

 When the stout Saldanha sailed, 

 And her colours as they flew, 

 Flung the warrior cross to view 

 Which in battle to subdue 



Ne'er had failed. 



Bright rose the laughing morn, 

 (That morn which sealed their doom,) 

 Dark and sad is her return, 

 And the storm -lights faintly burn 

 As they toss upon her stern 

 'Mid the gloom. 



From the lonely beacon's height 

 As the watchmen gazed around, 

 They saw that flashing light 

 Drive swift athwart the night, 

 Yet the wind was fair and right 

 For the Sound. 



But no mortal power shall now 

 That crew and vessel save — 

 They are shrouded as they go 

 In a hurricane of snow, 

 And the track beneath her prow 

 Is their grave. 



There are spirits of the deep 

 Who, when the warrant's given, 

 Rise raging from their sleep 

 On rock or mountain steep 

 Or 'mid thunder-clouds that keep 

 The wrath of Heaven. 



High the eddying mists are whirl'd 

 As they rear their giant forms, 

 See ! their tempest flag's unfurl'd, 

 Fierce they sweep the prostrate world, 

 And the withering lightning's hurl'd 

 Thro' the storms. 



O'er S willy's rocks they soar, 

 Commissioned watch to keep : 

 Down, down with thund'ring roar, 

 The exulting demons pour $ — 

 The Saldanha floats no more 

 On the deep ! 



