Ran crimson to his heart, till all chances he defied;
It threw boldness on his forehead, gave firmness to his breath,
And he look’d like some grim warrior new risen up from death!
That night a horrid whisper fell on us where we lay—
And we knew our fine old admiral was changing into clay
And we heard the wash of waters, though nothing could we see—
A whistle and a plunge among the billows on our lee;
Till dawn we watched the body in its dead and ghastly sleep,
And next evening at sunset it was slung into the deep;
And never from that moment, save one shudder through the sea,