seen our faces! heard
Us cheering, row on row;
Like men before some furnace stirred
To a fiery fearful glow!

'Twas Collingwood our lee line led,
And cut their centre through.
"_See how he goes in!_" Nelson said,
As his first broadside flew,
And near four hundred foemen fall.
Up went another cheer.
"Ah! what would Nelson give," said Coll,
"But to be with us here!"

We grimly kept our vanward path;
Over us hummed their shot;
But, silently, we reined our wrath,
Held on and answered not,
Till we could grip them face to face,
And pound them for our own,
Or hug them in a war-embrace,
Till we or both went down.

How calm he was! when first he felt
The sharp edge of that fight.
Cabined with God alone he knelt;
The prayer still lay in light
Upon his face, that used to shine
In battle--flash with life,
As though the glorious blood ran wine,
Dancing with that wild strife.

"Fight for us, Thou Almighty one!
Give victory once again!
And if I fall, Thy will be done.
Amen, Amen, Amen!"
With such a voice he bade good-bye;
The mournfullest old smile wore:
"Farewell! God bless you, Blackwood, I
Shall never see you more."

And four hours after, he had done
With winds and troubled foam:
The Reaper was borne dead upon
Our load of Harvest home--
Not till he knew the Old Flag flew
Alone on all the deep;
Then said he, "Hardy, is that you?
Kiss me." And fell asleep.

Well, 'twas his chosen death below
The deck in triumph trod;
'Tis well. A sailor's soul should go
From his good ship to God.
He would have chosen death aboard,
From all the crowns of rest;
And burial with the Patriot sword
Upon the Victor's breast.

"_Not a great sinner_." No, dear heart,
God grant in our death pain,
We may have played as well our part,
And feel as free from stain.
We see the spots on such a star,
Because it burned so bright;
But on the other side they are
All lost in greater light.

And so he went upon his way,
A higher deck to walk,
Or sit in