What painful struggles of thy dying crew!
Thy perished hopes all buried in the flood
O’erspread with corses, red with human blood!
So pierced with anguish hoary Priam gazed,
When Troy’s imperial domes in ruin blazed;
While he, severest sorrow doomed to feel,
Expired beneath the victor’s murdering steel—
Thus with his helpless partners to the last,
Sad refuge! Albert grasps the floating mast.
His soul could yet sustain this mortal blow,