Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.

New England: Scituate, Mass.

At Sea

By George Lunt (1803–1885)

IT was off the cuffs of Scituate,

In old Massachusetts Bay,

We took a stiff northeaster,

About the break of day;

Lord! how it howled and whistled

Through the ratlines and the shrouds,

As the icy snow dashed pelting

Through the scud of lowering clouds!

Outspoke then our bold captain,—

“She fairly drifts astern;

Against this gale no Boston

Can the good barque make, this turn;

To beach her were but madness,

Where the wild surf runs so high,—

Under our lee lies Scituate,

And there we can but try.”

Then “Hard up!” cried the captain,—

Like a bird she bore away,

The blast just struck her quarter,

And she flew across the bay;

Before us broke the dreaded bar,

And by the helmsman stood

Our captain, as the brave barque plunged

Into the foam-tossed flood.

One plunge! the strong wave lifted her,—

Aghast stood all the crew!

Again,—she rose upon the surge,—

And it brought her safely through.

Now, God bless Scituate Harbor,

And be blessed forevermore,

Who saved us from the sea’s cold clasp,

By that wild, treacherous shore.