ON ENTERING DOUGLAS BAY, ISLE OF MAN

By William Wordsworth

The feudal Keep, the bastions of Cohorn,

Even when they rose to check or to repel

Tides of aggressive war, oft served as well

Greedy ambition, armed to treat with scorn

Just limits; but yon Tower, whose smiles adorn

This perilous bay, stands clear of all offence;

Blest work it is of love and innocence,

A Tower of refuge built for the else forlorn.

Spare it, ye waves, and lift the mariner,

Struggling for life, into its saving arms!

Spare, too, the human helpers! Do they stir

‘ Mid your fierce shock like men afraid to die?

No; their dread service nerves the heart it warms,

And they are led by noble HILLARY.