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Where may he look for guerdon so fair As the honour and praise that await him there? His name will be lost and his grave forgot, If the tears of his country preserve them not!... ...He laid him on the deck to sleep, And pleasant was his rest, and deep; He heard familiar voices speak, He felt his love's breath on his cheek; He looked upon his own blue skies, He saw his native temples rise: Even in dreams he wept to see What he had loved so tenderly. The sailors looked within the hold, And envied him his shining gold: They waked him, bade him mark the wave, And said 'twas for 's grave!