The Lost Galleon Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCC DDEEFGFGHHAA CCBBIIJIJKLLMM NNOPQQQAAARRSTST IIUUVVWWXXEEAHHYZZ CCWWA2A2AAB2B2CC IIC2C2 GGD2D2D2D2 D2D2OOCCD2D2D2D2CCWW D2D2CCCC D2D2OOE2E2D2D2 OOOOOWWD2D2DDDMM OOWWD2D2D2D2D2D2 D2D2D2D2D2D2D2D2F2F2 D2D2 D2D2OOD2D2OOOOD2G2G2 H2I2H2I2D2D2 J2A2J2A2D2D2

In sixteen hundred and forty oneA
The regular yearly galleonA
Laden with odorous gums and spiceB
India cottons and India riceB
And the richest silks of far CathayC
Was due at Acapulco BayC
-
Due she was and overdueD
Galleon merchandise and crewD
Creeping along through rain and shineE
Through the tropics under the lineE
The trains were waiting outside the wallsF
The wives of sailors thronged the townG
The traders sat by their empty stallsF
And the Viceroy himself came downG
The bells in the tower were all a tripH
Te Deums were on each Father's lipH
The limes were ripening in the sunA
For the sick of the coming galleonA
-
All in vain Weeks passed awayC
And yet no galleon saw the bayC
India goods advanced in priceB
The Governor missed his favorite spiceB
The Senoritas mourned for sandalI
And the famous cottons of CoromandelI
And some for an absent lover lostJ
And one for a husband Dona JuliaI
Wife of the captain tempest tossedJ
In circumstances so peculiarK
Even the Fathers unawaresL
Grumbled a little at their prayersL
And all along the coast that yearM
Votive candles wore scarce and dearM
-
Never a tear bedims the eyeN
That time and patience will not dryN
Never a lip is curved with painO
That can't be kissed into smiles againP
And these same truths as far as I knowQ
Obtained on the coast of MexicoQ
More than two hundred years agoQ
In sixteen hundred and fifty oneA
Ten years after the deed was doneA
And folks had forgotten the galleonA
The divers plunged in the gulf for pearlsR
White as the teeth of the Indian girlsR
The traders sat by their full bazaarsS
The mules with many a weary loadT
And oxen dragging their creaking carsS
Came and went on the mountain roadT
-
Where was the galleon all this whileI
Wrecked on some lonely coral isleI
Burnt by the roving sea maraudersU
Or sailing north under secret ordersU
Had she found the Anian passage famedV
By lying Maldonado claimedV
And sailed through the sixty fifth degreeW
Direct to the North Atlantic SeaW
Or had she found the River of KingsX
Of which De Fonte told such strange thingsX
In sixteen forty Never a signE
East or west or under the lineE
They saw of the missing galleonA
Never a sail or plank or chipH
They found of the long lost treasure shipH
Or enough to build a tale uponY
But when she was lost and where and howZ
Are the facts we're coming to just nowZ
-
Take if you please the chart of that dayC
Published at Madrid por el ReyC
Look for a spot in the old South SeaW
The hundred and eightieth degreeW
Longitude west of Madrid thereA2
Under the equatorial glareA2
Just where the east and west are oneA
You'll find the missing galleonA
You'll find the San Gregorio yetB2
Riding the seas with sails all setB2
Fresh as upon the very dayC
She sailed from Acapulco BayC
-
How did she get there What strange spellI
Kept her two hundred years so wellI
Free from decay and mortal taintC2
What but the prayers of a patron saintC2
-
A hundred leagues from Manilla townG
The San Gregorio's helm came downG
Round she went on her heel and notD2
A cable's length from a galliotD2
That rocked on the waters just abreastD2
Of the galleon's course which was west sou' westD2
-
Then said the galleon's commandanteD2
General Pedro SobrienteD2
That was his rank on land and mainO
A regular custom of Old SpainO
My pilot is dead of scurvy mayC
I ask the longitude time and dayC
The first two given and comparedD2
The third the commandante staredD2
The FIRST of June I make it secondD2
Said the stranger Then you've wrongly reckonedD2
I make it FIRST as you came this wayC
You should have lost d'ye see a dayC
Lost a day as plainly seeW
On the hundred and eightieth degreeW
Lost a day Yes if not rudeD2
When did you make east longitudeD2
On the ninth of May our patron's dayC
On the ninth YOU HAD NO NINTH OF MAYC
Eighth and tenth was there but stayC
Too late for the galleon bore awayC
-
Lost was the day they should have keptD2
Lost unheeded and lost unweptD2
Lost in a way that made search vainO
Lost in a trackless and boundless mainO
Lost like the day of Job's awful curseE2
In his third chapter third and fourth verseE2
Wrecked was their patron's only dayD2
What would the holy Fathers sayD2
-
Said the Fray Antonio EstavanO
The galleon's chaplain a learned manO
Nothing is lost that you can regainO
And the way to look for a thing is plainO
To go where you lost it back againO
Back with your galleon till you seeW
The hundred and eightieth degreeW
Wait till the rolling year goes roundD2
And there will the missing day be foundD2
For you'll find if computation's trueD
That sailing EAST will give to youD
Not only one ninth of May but twoD
One for the good saint's present cheerM
And one for the day we lost last yearM
-
Back to the spot sailed the galleonO
Where for a twelvemonth off and onO
The hundred and eightieth degreeW
She rose and fell on a tropic seaW
But lo when it came to the ninth of MayD2
All of a sudden becalmed she layD2
One degree from that fatal spotD2
Without the power to move a knotD2
And of course the moment she lost her wayD2
Gone was her chance to save that dayD2
-
To cut a lengthening story shortD2
She never saved it Made the sportD2
Of evil spirits and baffling windD2
She was always before or just behindD2
One day too soon or one day too lateD2
And the sun meanwhile would never waitD2
She had two Eighths as she idly layD2
Two Tenths but never a NINTH of MayD2
And there she rides through two hundred yearsF2
Of dreary penance and anxious fearsF2
Yet through the grace of the saint she servedD2
Captain and crew are still preservedD2
-
By a computation that still holds goodD2
Made by the Holy BrotherhoodD2
The San Gregorio will cross that lineO
In nineteen hundred and thirty nineO
Just three hundred years to a dayD2
From the time she lost the ninth of MayD2
And the folk in Acapulco townO
Over the waters looking downO
Will see in the glow of the setting sunO
The sails of the missing galleonO
And the royal standard of Philip ReyD2
The gleaming mast and glistening sparG2
As she nears the surf of the outer barG2
A Te Deum sung on her crowded deckH2
An odor of spice along the shoreI2
A crash a cry from a shattered wreckH2
And the yearly galleon sails no moreI2
In or out of the olden bayD2
For the blessed patron has found his dayD2
-
-
-
Such is the legend Hear this truthJ2
Over the trackless past somewhereA2
Lie the lost days of our tropic youthJ2
Only regained by faith and prayerA2
Only recalled by prayer and plaintD2
Each lost day has its patron saintD2

Bret Harte



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about The Lost Galleon poem by Bret Harte


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 25 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets