33

Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all, 15

15

For all we have and are, 21

21

God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, let nothing you dismay, 44

44

'Have you news of my boy Jack?' 61

61

He passed in the very battle-smoke, 31

31

I ate my fill of a whale that died, 121

121

I do not look for holy saints to guide me on my way, 114 [xii]

114

[xii]

If you stop to find out what your wages will be, 80

80

In a land that the sand overlays—the ways to her gates are untrod, 148

148

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