“A pennant universal, subtly waving, all time, o’er all brave sailors, / All seas, all ships.”

Sea Poetry Monday drops back to medieval times, when crossing the Bay of Biscay was not a simple journey:


The Sailing of the Pilgrims from Sandwich towards St. James of Compostella, anonymous early 15th century

Men may leave all games
That sailen to Saint James
For many a man it grames
    When they begin to sail.
For when they have take the sea,
At Sandwich, or at Winchilsea,
At Bristow, or where that it be,
    Their hearts begin to fail.

Anon the master commandeth fast
To his ship-men in all the hast
To dress them soon about the mast,
    Their tackling to make.
With "Howe! Hissa!" then they cry,
"What, hoist! Mate, thou stondest too nigh,
Thy fellow may not hale the by,"
    Thus they begin to crake.

A boy or twain anon up-styen.
And overthwart the sail-yard line;—
"Y how! Taylia! " the remnant cryen,
    And pull with all their might.
"Bestow the boat, boat-swaine, anon,
That our pilgrims may play thereon;
For some are like to cough and groan,
    Or it be full midnight."

"Hale the bowline! Now, veer the sheet!
Cook, make ready anon our meat.
Our pilgrims have no lust to eat,
    I pray God give them est."
"Go to the helm! What, how, no near?
Steward, fellow! a pot of beer!"
"Ye shall have, sir, with good cheer,
    Anon all of the best."

"Y how! Trussa! Hale in the brails!
Thow halest not, by God, thou fails!
O see how well our good ship sails!"
    And thus they say among.
"Hale in the wartake!" "Hit shall be done."
"Steward! cover the board anon
And set bread and salt thereon,
    And tarry not too long."

Then cometh one and saith, "Be merry;
Ye shall have a storm or a perry."
"Hold thou thy peace! Thou canst no whery,
    Thou meddlest wonder sore."
This meanwhile the pilgrims lie,
And have their bowles fast them by,
And cry after hot malvesy,
    "Thou help for to restore."

And some would have a salted toast.
For they might eat neither sode ne roast
A man might soon pay for their cost,
    As for one day or twain.
Some laid their bookes on their knee,
And read so long they might not see; --
"Alas! mine head will cleeve in three!"
    Thus saith another certain.

Then cometh our owner like a lord,
And speaketh many a royal word
And dresseth him to the high horde
    To see all thing be well.
Anon he calleth a carpenter.
And biddeth him bring with him his gear,
To make the cabins here and there.
    With many a feeble cell.

A sack of straw were there right good
For some must lay them in their hood.
I had as lief be in the wood
    Without meat or drink.
For when that we shall go to bed
The pump was nigh our bedde head:
A man were as good to be dead
    As smell thereof the stink.


I found this in John Masefield's A Sailor's Garland, given without a source -- and I've not been able to scare up one. I've edited to modernize spelling (except as required by rhyme, meter, or dialect) and close up the double stanzas, and here reproduce Masefield's glossing:

Grames, troubles. Nigh, too near, too close, so that the next man cannot haul. Taylia, O, tally on, take hold and haul. Boote, ship's boat. No near, steer no nearer the wind. Trussa, a call or hauling shout. "O truss her up." Wartake, a warp. Perry, a danger. Stink, The water which leaks into a tight wooden ship generally rots in the bilges. The smell of this rotten water is abominable, but the presence of the smell indicates that the leak is inconsiderable.

To which I add: malvesy, malmsey, a wine. sode, ??

---L.

Subject quote from Song for All Seas, All Ships, Walt Whitman.