Fast sinking, mustered on the deck they stood, Biding God's pleasure and their chief's command. Calm was the sea, but not less calm that band Close ranged upon the poop, with bated breath But flinching not though eye to eye with Death ! Heroes !
Who were those Heroes? Veterans steeled To face the King of Terrors mid the scaith Of many an hurricane and trenched field? Far other: weavers from the stocking-frame; Boys from the plough; cornets with beardless chin, But steeped in honour and in discipline !
Weep, Britain, for the Cape whose ill-starred name*, Long since divorced from Hope suggests but shame, Disaster, and thy Captains held at bay By naked hordes; but as thou weepest, thank Heaven for those undegenerate sons who sank
Aboard the Birkenhead in Simon's Bay!
Yule.
cvn APOLLO
THROUGH the black, rushing smoke-bursts Thick breaks the red flame; All Ktna heaves fiercely Her forest-clothed frame.
Not here, O Apollo ! Are haunts meet for thce. But, where Helicon breaks down In cliff to the sea,
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