- end_line
- 799
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:50.352Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 771
- text
- Only in a tussle for the starry flag high,
When ’tis piety to do, and privilege to die.
Then, only then, would heaven think to lop
Such a cedar as the captain o’ the _Splendid’s_ main-top:
A belted sea-gentleman; a gallant, off-hand
Mercutio indifferent in life’s gay command.
Magnanimous in humor; when the splintering shot fell,
“Tooth-picks a-plenty, lads; thank ’em with a shell!”
Sang Larry o’ the _Cannakin,_ smuggler o’ the wine,
At mess between guns, lad in jovial recline:
“In Limbo our Jack he would chirrup up a cheer,
The martinet there find a chaffing mutineer;
From a thousand fathoms down under hatches o’ your Hades,
He’d ascend in love-ditty, kissing fingers to your ladies!”
Never relishing the knave, though allowing for the menial,
Nor overmuch the king, Jack, nor prodigally genial.
Ashore on liberty he flashed in escapade,
Vaulting over life in its levelness of grade,
Like the dolphin off Africa in rainbow a-sweeping—
Arch iridescent shot from seas languid sleeping.
Larking with thy life, if a joy but a toy,
Heroic in thy levity wert thou, Jack Roy.
- title
- Chunk 3