Classic Poem

High o'er his moldering castle walls
The warrior's phantom glides,
And loudly to the skiff it calls
That on the billow rides—

“Behold! these arms once vaunted might,
This heart beat wild and bold—
Behold! these ducal veins ran bright
With wine-red blood of old.

“The noon in storm, the eve in rest,
So sped my life's brief day.
What then? Young bark on Ocean's breast,
Cleave thou thy destined way!”