THE LOSS OF THE "BIRKENHEAD."
(February 25, 1852.)
SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE.
[The _Birkenhead_ was lost off the coast of Africa by striking on a
hidden rock, when the soldiers on board sacrificed themselves, in
order that the boats might be left free for the women and children.]
Right on our flank the sun was dropping down;
The deep sea heaved around in bright repose;
When, like the wild shriek from some captured town,
A cry of women rose.
The stout ship _Birkenhead_ lay hard and fast,
Caught without hope upon a hidden rock;
Her timbers thrilled as nerves, when thro' them passed
The spirit of that shock.
And ever like base cowards, who leave their ranks
In danger's hour, before the rush of steel,
Drifted away, disorderly, the planks
From underneath her keel.
So calm the air--so calm and still the flood,
That low down in its blue translucent glass
We saw the great fierce fish, that thirst for blood,
Pass slowly, then repass.
They tarried, the waves tarried, for their prey!
The sea turned one clear smile! Like things asleep
Those dark shapes in the azure silence lay,
As quiet as the deep.
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