For England when with favoring gale <br />Our gallant ship up channel steered, <br />And, scudding under easy sail, <br />The high blue western land appeared; <br />To heave the lead the seaman spring, <br />And to the pilot cheerly sung, <br />' By the deep - nine! ' <br /> <br />And bearing up to gain the port, <br />Some well-known object kept in view, - <br />An abbey-tower, a harbor-fort, <br />Or beacon to the vessel true; <br />While oft the lead the seaman flung, <br />And to the pilot cheerly sung, <br />' By the mark - seven! ' <br /> <br />And as the much-loved shore we near, <br />With transport we behold the roof <br />Where dwelt a friend or partner dear, <br />Of faith and love a matchless proof. <br />The lead once more the seaman flung, <br />And to the watchful pilot sung, <br />' Quarter less - five! ' <br /> <br />Now to her berth, the ship draws nigh: <br />We shorten sail, - she feels the tide, - <br />'Stand clear the cable' is the cry, - <br />The anchor's gone; we safely ride. <br />The watch is set, and through the night <br />We hear the seamen with delight <br />Proclaim, - ' All's well! '<br /><br />Charles Dibdin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-england-when-with-favoring-gale/
