No sculptured slab of marble rare
The Captain’s grave discloses;
No flattering strain of praise records
Where his pale corse reposes;
No weeping kindred o’er his bier
With praises laud the brave;
No floweret gemmed with memory’s tear
Proclaims the Captain’s grave.
Wrapped in a shroud of pale sea flowers,
Deep in a rocky grot,
The clay-cold form lies silently,
Where man disturbeth not.
No solemn train of funeral pomp,
He died as died the brave;
The fond hope of a hardy crew
Rests calm below the wave.