 The Last Buccaneer by Thomas Babington McCulley Red for LibriVox.org by Barbara Clements The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes aflame brought the ship without a name, alongside the last buccaneer. What's flies your sloopful sail before, so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas? They come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich caribis? From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer. Above, below, our bark dies the sea-fowl on the shark, as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde a loud crash and a louder roar, and to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning, sweep the corpses and the wreck to shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride, in the breath of the citrine's shades, and Severin's towering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. George's Wealthy Port, from Havana's Royal Fort, the seaman goes forth without fear, for since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. The last buccaneer by Thomas Babington Macaulay, read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence. The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name, alongside the last buccaneer. Winds flies your sloop full sail, before so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas, say, come ye from the shore of the Holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich caribese. From a shore no search is found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer, above below our bark dies a sea-fowl and the shark as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde a loud crash and a louder roar, and to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning, sleep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride, in the breath of the citron shades, and Severin's towering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seamen goes forth without fear, for since that stormy night not a mortal half had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes of flame bought the ship without a name, alongside the last buccaneer. And slice your sloopful sail, blow off so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas. Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich Caribbeans. From ashore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer, above, below our bark dies the sea-fowl and the shark, as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape Diverd a loud crash and a louder roar, and tomorrow shall the deep with the heavy moaning sweep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride in the breath of the citron shades, and seven-stowering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seaman goes forth without fear. For since that stormy night, not a mortal man hath sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. As black and drear, when the crew with the eyes of flame brought the ship without a name, alongside the last buccaneer, whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas. Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich caribis. From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound without rudder or needle we steer. Above below our bark dies the sea fowl and the shark as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape Diverd, a loud crash and a louder roar, and tomorrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride in the breath of the citron shades, and seven-stowering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. Diego's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seaman goes forth without fear, for since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Last Buccaneer, by Thomas Babington Macaulay, read for LibriVox.org by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name alongside the last buccaneer. Whence flies your sloop full sail before Sophia Sagail, when all others drive bare on the seas? Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich caribis? From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer. Above below our bark dies the sea-fowl and the shark as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape De Verde a loud crash and a louder roar, and to-morrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride in the breath of the citron shades, and Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From San Diego's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seaman goes forth without fear. For since that stormy night, not a mortal hath had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. The last buccaneer by Thomas Babington Macaulay The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes aflame brought the ship without a name, alongside the last buccaneer. Winds flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas, say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich caribies. From ashore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer. Above, below our bark, dyes the seafowl and the shark, as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde a loud crash and a louder roar, and tomorrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride in the breadth of the citron shades, and seven's towering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seaman goes forth without fear. For since that stormy night, not a mortal hath had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Last Buccaneer by Thomas Bavington McCawley, read for LibriVox.org by Sean Michael Hogan, St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada. The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name alongside the last buccaneer. Quince flies your sloopful sail before so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas. Say, come ye from the shore of the Holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich caribis. From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer. Above, below, our bark dies the sea fowl and the shark, as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape De Verde, a loud crash and a louder roar, and tomorrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride in the breath of the citron shades, and Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. Yago's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seaman goes forth without fear, for since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Last Buccaneer by Thomas Babington Macaulay, read for LibriVox.org by Trisha G. The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, the sky was black and drear, when the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name alongside the last buccaneer. Whence flies your sloopful sail before so fierce a gale, when all others drive bare on the seas? Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, or the gulf of the rich carabes? From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, without rudder or needle we steer. Above, below our bark, dies the sea-fowl and the shark, as we fly by the last buccaneer. Tonight there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape Divered a loud crash and a louder roar, and tomorrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep the corpses and wreck to the shore. The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride in the breath of the citron shades, and Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast through the sea of the balmy trades. From St. Yago's wealthy port, from Havana's royal fort, the seaman goes forth without fear, for since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight of the flag of the last buccaneer. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain.