They found him, death's flood bravely breasting,*
Ten hours of lone anguish he bore.
Now, alas! the brave fireman is resting,
To fight London's fire-fiend no more.
Though honour o'er him drops the curtain,
Our duty to his is not vague.
Subscribe, London city, in pride, and proud pity,
And love of your brave fireman, Sprague!
* "Covered with dirt, haggard, and hardly recognisable for the vigorous man who had dashed into the court ten hours before; he smiled faintly, and whispered words of gratitude and hope. 'I am so glad you have come,' he said. 'I shall be all right again soon.'"—Daily News.