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John Clare - Bantry Bay
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On the eighteenth of October we lay in Bantry Bay,
  All ready to set sail, with a fresh and steady gale:
A fortnight and nine days we in the harbour lay,
  And no breeze ever reached us or strained a single sail.
Three ships of war had we, and the great guns loaded all;
  But our ships were dead and beaten that had never feared a foe.
The winds becalmed around us cared for no cannon ball;
  They locked us in the harbour and would not let us go.

On the nineteenth of October, by eleven of the clock,
  The sky turned black as midnight and a sudden storm came on--
Awful and sudden--and the cables felt the shock;
  Our anchors they all broke away and every sheet was gone.
The guns fired off amid the strife, but little hope had we;
  The billows broke above the ship and left us all below.
The crew with one consent cried "Bear further out to sea,"
  But the waves obeyed no sailor`s call, and we knew not where to go.

She foundered on a rock, while we clambered up the shrouds,
  And staggered like a mountain drunk, wedged in the waves almost.
The red hot boiling billows foamed in the stooping clouds,
  And in that fatal tempest the whole ship`s crew were lost.
Have pity for poor mariners, ye landsmen, in a storm.
  O think what they endure at sea while safe at home you stay.
All ye that sleep on beds at night in houses dry and warm,
  O think upon the whole ship`s crew, all lost at Bantry Bay.
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