I had not been seated very long ere a man of a certain venerable robustness entered; immediately as the storm-pelted door flew back upon admitting him, a quick regardful eyeing of him b...

We drop our dead in the sea, The bottomless, bottomless sea; Each bubble a hollow sigh, As it sinks forever and aye. We drop our dead in the sea,—

IN relating to my friends various passages of my sea-goings I have at times had occasion to allude to that singular people the ‘Gees, sometimes as casual acquaintances, sometimes as shi...

One man we claim of wrought reknow… Which not the North shall care to… A Modern lived who sleeps in deat… Calm as the marble Ancients are: ’Tis he whose life, though a vapor…

YOU see," said poet Blandmour, enthusiastically—as some forty years ago we walked along the road in a soft, moist snowfall, toward the end of March—"you see, my friend, that the blessed...

It was not a great while after the affair of the pipe, that one morning shortly after breakfast, Ahab, as was his wont, ascended the cabin-gangway to the deck. There most sea-captains u...

The _Charles-and-Emma_ seaward sp… (Named from the carven pair at pro… He so smart, and a curly head, She tricked forth as a bride knows… Pretty stem for the port, I trow!

My soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned; and by a madman! Insufferable sting, that sanity should ground arms on such a field! But he drilled deep down, and blasted all my reason ...

Silence and solitude may hint (Whose home is in yon piney wood) What I, though tableted, could ne… The din which here befell, And striving of the multitude.

Were shronke into the jawes, as he did never dine. Southeast of Crossman’s Isle lies Hood’s Isle, or McCain’s Beclouded lsle, and upon its south side is a vitreous cove with a wide stra...

It was during the more pleasant weather, that in due rotation with the other seamen my first mast-head came round. In most American whalemen the mast-heads are manned almost simultaneou...

As we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg carrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us from his wigwam, saying he had not suspec...

ALOFT he guards the starry folds Who is the brother of the star; The bird whose joy is in the wind Exulteth in the war. No painted plume—a sober hue,

In time and measure perfect moves All Art whose aim is sure; Evolving rhyme and stars divine Have rules, and they endure. Nor less the Fleet that warred fo…