Left him so drunk, he jumped into the wave,
As o'er the cutter's edge he tried to cross,
And so he found a wine-and-watery grave;
They could not rescue him although so close,
Because the sea ran higher every minute,
And for the boat—the crew kept crowding in it.
LVIII.
A small old spaniel,—which had been Don José's,
His father's, whom he loved, as ye may think,
For on such things the memory reposes