Then loose each sail to the rising gale and lash the helm a-lee.
Alone, alone, on my drifting throne, I would view my realm, the sea.
My realm and grave the northern wave, where the tempest’s voice will sing
My death-song loud, where flame shall shroud the ocean’s warrior-king,
Whilst heroes wait at Valhalla’s gate to proudly welcome me.
For my race is run, my errand done. Receive thy Chief, O Sea!
THE RIDE OF JENNIE McNEAL
By Will Carleton
Paul Revere was a rider bold—
Well has his valorous deed been told;