The midnight watch—but ah, the magic bough,
The opiate dew that dript upon his brow,
The vacant post, the friends who waking wept.
The gods demand their victims; who shall know
What failures Time and Circumstance compel?
Yet, if such doom were mine, I would ’twere so
That they would mark my absence thus: “How well
Even unto the last he struggled, lo!
He tore the rudder with him when he fell!”