The storm is wild; the merciless winds, elate,
Drive o'er the waves, and scatter them like sands:
Calm on the vessel's deck, confronting Fate,
The dauntless sailor stands.
No thought of self invades his manly heart,
Though men grow pale and women wail and weep:
Unmoved he sees gaunt Death, with lifted dart,
Rise from the yawning deep!
In that dark hour, when staggering to her doom,
His wounded ship plunged madly through the foam;
While, gleaming like a star above the gloom,
Rose his; own distant home:
He strove for others—strove to reunite
The frantic mother and her helpless child;[*]
And kept stern watch and ward till came the night—
That night of terror wild.
Ah! gallant sailor! trusted, tried, and true!
The crown is thine, the martyr's deathless crown:
Henceforth thy name shall live among the few
Which tears alone can drown!