11.04.2012, 20:12
James Cook
While others racked the world for lust of war
And gat no joy of ocean save in fight,
The sea's vast self was still thy dear delight,
Fame found thee not where round-shot crash and roar,
But where the combers of some coral shore
Make their tumultuous music to the night,
Or How's majestic headland rises bright
From glowing waves no keel had cut before.
Master and friend of seamen, quick to share
There weal or woe, through all the seven seas
Each whispering wind thy tale of glory saith,
By far St. Lawrence is thy memory fair,
The stark North bore thee on the Behring breeze,
And thy South gave thee toil and fame and death.
While others racked the world for lust of war
And gat no joy of ocean save in fight,
The sea's vast self was still thy dear delight,
Fame found thee not where round-shot crash and roar,
But where the combers of some coral shore
Make their tumultuous music to the night,
Or How's majestic headland rises bright
From glowing waves no keel had cut before.
Master and friend of seamen, quick to share
There weal or woe, through all the seven seas
Each whispering wind thy tale of glory saith,
By far St. Lawrence is thy memory fair,
The stark North bore thee on the Behring breeze,
And thy South gave thee toil and fame and death.