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  • The Castaway
  • William Cowper
  • Exported from Wikisource on 03/05/20
  • OBSCUREST night involv'd the sky,
  • Th' Atlantic billows roar'd,
  • When such a destin'd wretch as I,
  • Wash'd headlong from on board,
  • Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
  • His floating home forever left.
  • No braver chief could Albion boast
  • Than he with whom he went
  • Nor ever ship left Albion's coast,
  • With warmer wishes sent.
  • He lov'd them both, but both in vain,
  • Nor him beheld, nor her again.
  • Not long beneath the whelming brine,
  • Expert to swim, he lay;
  • Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
  • Or courage die away;
  • But wag'd with death a lasting strife,
  • Supported by despair of life.
  • He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd
  • To check the vessel's course,
  • But so the furious blast prevail'd,
  • That, pitiless perforce,
  • They left their outcast mate behind,
  • And scudded still before the wind.
  • Some succour yet they could afford;
  • And, such as storms allow,
  • The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
  • Delay'd not to bestow.
  • But he (they knew) nor ship, nor shore,
  • Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
  • Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he
  • Their haste himself condemn,
  • Aware that flight, in such a sea,
  • Alone could rescue them;
  • Yet bitter felt it still to die
  • Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
  • He long survives, who lives an hour
  • In ocean, self-upheld;
  • And so long he, with unspent pow'r,
  • His destiny repell'd;
  • And ever, as the minutes flew,
  • Entreated help, or cried, — Adieu!
  • At length, his transient respite past,
  • His comrades, who before
  • Had heard his voice in ev'ry blast,
  • Could catch the sound no more.
  • For then, by toil subdued, he drank
  • The stifling wave, and then he sank.
  • No poet wept him: but the page
  • Of narrative sincere,
  • That tells his name, his worth, his age,
  • Is wet with Anson's tear.
  • And tears by bards or heroes shed
  • Alike immortalize the dead.
  • I therefore purpose not, or dream,
  • Descanting on his fate,
  • To give the melancholy theme
  • A more enduring date:
  • But misery still delights to trace
  • Its 'semblance in another's case.
  • No voice divine the storm allay'd,
  • No light propitious shone;
  • When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
  • We perish'd, each alone;
  • But I beneath a rougher sea,
  • And whelm'd in deeper gulphs than he.
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