They met, 'twas in a storm,
On the deck of a steamer;
She spoke in language warm,
Like a sentimental dreamer.
He spoke--at least he tried;
His position he altered;
Then turn'd his face aside,
And his deep-ton'd voice falter'd.
She gazed upon the wave,
Sublime she declared it;
But no reply he gave--
He could not have dared it.
A breeze came from the south,
Across the billows sweeping;
His heart was in his mouth,
And out he thought 'twas leaping.
"O, then, Steward," he cried,
With the deepest emotion;
Then tottered to the side,
And leant o'er the ocean.
The world may think him cold,
But they'll pardon him with quickness,
When the fact they shall be told,
That he suffer'd from sea-sickness.
PUNCH'S ILLUSTRATIONS TO SHAKSPEARE
"Richmond is on the seas."
Richard III., Act iv., Scene 4.]
