Whilst, inch by inch, the drowning ship sank low,
Still under steadfast men.

-What follows, why recall?-The brave who died,
Died without flinching in the bloody surf,

They sleep as well beneath that purple tide,
As others under turf:-

They sleep as well! and, roused from their wild grave,
Wearing their wounds like stars, shall rise again,
Joint-heirs with Christ, because they bled to save
His weak ones, not in vain.

Francis Hastings Doyle

CRAVEN

[MOBILE BAY, AUGUST 5, 1864]

Over the turret, shut in his ironclad tower,

Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame; Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour, Now was the time for a charge to end the game.

There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim,
A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign:
There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim

The flag was flying, and he was head of the line.

The fleet behind was jamming: the monitor hung
Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed;
Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung;

Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed

Into the narrowing channel, between the shore
And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank;
She turned but a yard too short; a muffled roar,

A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.

Over the manhole, up in the ironclad tower,
Pilot and captain met as they turned to fly:
The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour,
For one could pass to be saved, and one must die.

They stood like men in a dream; Craven spoke,— Spoke as he lived and fought, with a captain's pride: "After you, Pilot." The pilot woke,

Down the ladder he went, and Craven died.

All men praise the deed and the manner; but we-
We set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud,
The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free,
The grave of the empty hands and promises loud;

Sidney thirsting a humbler need to slake,

Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand, Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sake, Outram coveting right before command,

These were paladins, these were Craven's peers,
These with him shall be crowned in story and song,
Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears,
Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud, and strong.

COLUMBUS

Henry Newbolt

Behind him lay the gray Azores,

Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.

The good mate said: "Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone.

Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?"
"Why, say 'Sail on! sail on! and on!""

"My men grow mutinous day by day; My men grow ghastly wan and weak." The stout mate thought of home; a spray

Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. "What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" "Why, you shall say at break of day,

'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!""

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
Until at last the blanched mate said:
"Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.

These very winds forget their way,

For God from these dread seas is gone. Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say"He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!"

They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night.

He curls his lip, he lies in wait,

With lifted teeth, as if to bite!

Brave Admiral, say but one good word:
What shall we do when hope is gone?"
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speck-
A light! a light! a light! a light!

It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. He gained a world; he gave that world Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"

Joaquin Miller

"O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!"

[ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 1809-1865]

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is

won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills, up-for For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and

done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

HE FELL AMONG THIEVES

"Ye have robbed," said he, "ye have slaughtered and made an end,

Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:

What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?" "Blood for our blood," they said.

He laughed: "If one may settle the score for five,
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive."
"You shall die at dawn," said they.

He flung his empty revolver down the slope,

He climbed alone to the Eastward edge of the trees; All night long in a dream untroubled of hope

He brooded, clasping his knees.

He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills
The ravine where the Yassin river sullenly flows;
He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills,
Or the far Afghan snows.

He saw the April noon on his books aglow,
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide;
He heard his father's voice from the terrace below
Calling him down to ride.

He saw the gray little church across the park,

The mounds that hid the loved and honored dead;

The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark,

The brasses black and red.

He saw the School Close, sunny and green,

The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall, The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between, His own name over all.