Metrical tales, and other poems; - Electric Scotland

THE LAST CKUISE OF THE DWAEF. 85
Then the wind it veered, and a black cloud peered
On the brow of the western height
Cried Finlay MacLeod— " Look out for squalls,"
And Finlay MacLeod was right.
For scarce had we put the Dwarf about,
On the homeward tack to stand,
^yiien over the Bay, like a thunder-clap.
The black squall blew from the land.
"Sheet home! sheet home! " cried Finlay MacLeod
" Hard home it is ! " shouted I
As through the waves, like a winged thing.
Our vessel began to fly.
" Ho, here she goes! " cried Finlay MacLeod;
"But it's all that the Dwarf can do."
I looked a-head, and the roaring sea
Was terrible to my view.
"No fear! no fear!" cried Finlay MacLeod;
" But I wish that we could reeve !
I looked abaft, and the bubbling brine
Was wetting Finlay'ssleeve.
And the sky grew blacker over head,
And stiffer the tempest blew,
But through the foaming waters the Dwarf,
With her sail unshortened, flew.
She cut the waves as her prow had been
Not of timber, but burnished steel;
She dashed them off like a man-of-war.
Though only of ten feet keel.
"Well done, brave Dwarf !
" cried Finlay MacLeod;
"Let the tempests rage their fill;
We'll soon be out of their fury's reach.
For yonder 's the ' Old Distil ! '"
But the black clouds burst, and the big drops gushed
From the fountains of the sky