(May 31, 1889.)
Now that the land lies stricken
By a deluge dire and dread,
And the bravest spirits sicken
At thought of the doomed and dead,
Let a chord of praise be smitten
For the hero-hearted one,
And a requiem song be written
For Daniel Periton!
Go not to your olden story
For one with a deathless name!--
With never a dream of glory,
With never a heed of fame,
He dashed through the fated city
And called to the folk to fly;
O God of infinite pity,
Would all might have heard his cry!
Too late, too late the warning!
For the wave that bore despair
Rushed down with a ruthless scorning
Of mortal strength and prayer.
It smote in its mad derision,
It gulfed with its choking breath,
And set on a people’s vision
The blinding seal of death.
And what of him who had striven
To save in that awful hour
When the stoutest walls were riven
By the flood’s remorseless power?
Dead by the bridge they found him,--
Him and his gallant steed;
But ever will shine around him
The light of his noble deed!
A germ of divine creating
Abides in the human race,
And a man is always waiting
To spring to the hero’s place.
And so let the lyre be smitten
In praise of the fearless one,
And a requiem song be written
For Daniel Periton!