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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.