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No breeze was on the mirror wave.-
The spangled pendant idly hung,
As in the burial of the brave,
Wide o'er the sea our requiem rung;
No scutcheon glittered on his breast.-
No coffin cased his senseless clay-
No kindred heard his last request,
His prayer for one far, far away.

Slow rolled the smoke of funeral gun
O'er ocean's tranquil blue-
An instant veil'd the blood red sun,
As near the wave it drew;
Then mingling with the fleecy clouds,
On which the bright beam darted;
It seem'd to form a golden shroud,
For the spirit of him departed.

I marked the circles of ripples rise,
As in the sea the body fell,-
They seemed to shake the evening skies,
Reflected in the trembling swell.
Like them his being pass'd away,-
The ruffled life's broad scene-
Then like them ceased, and few could say,
That he or they had been.