8 
THE SEA-SERPENT. 
III. 
Light were her spars, yet not too light for the 
snowy cloud she sometimes spread, when, swift 
as the soaring sea-bird’s flight, away, away from 
the fleet she fled. Swift, O swift, must the 
* 
rapid yacht be, that can catch the Hope, the 
Queen of the Sea ! 
The trim-looking tar who stood at the wheel, 
watching the pennant which idly hung, the spell of 
the twilight hour could feel, and forgot the strain 
that he sometimes sung. 
Forward, the men — a dashing set — on the heel 
of the bowsprit half reclined, wishing a breeze 
would the ocean fret, yet still to their lot seemed 
half resigned. 
They were off Nahant, and far away as your 
eye could stretch, or the sailors see the waters 
of our glorious bay, held many a tall ship lazily ; 
— ship, and boat, and schooner, and all, lazily 
rise and lazily fall, as slowly, gracefully, roll on 
roll, the ocean heaves from pole to pole. 
