They bore away that youthful form,
And laid it in the humid grave,
That yestermorn with life was warm,
And launch'd upon the dancing wave
With jocund voice, and hopes as bright
As stirr'd beneath that morning's light.
His oar with nervous arm he plied,
Nor shrank from dangers gath'ring fast,
Struggling against that treacherous tide,
His stout heart braves it to the last;