Accidents > Dangers of the deep, or, Narratives of shipwreck and adventure at sea

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England’s dead.
For those that from their toils are gone !—_
There slumber England’s Dead.
On the frozen deep’s repose
’Tis a dark and dreadful hour,
"When round the ship the ice-fields close
To chain her with their power:
But let the ice drift on !
Let the cold blue desert spread !
Their course with mast and flag is done—
There slumber England’s Dead.
The warlike of the isles!
The men of field and wave;
Are not the rocks their funeral piles,
The seas and shores their graves ?
Go stranger, track the deep,
Free, free the white sail spread 1
Wind may not rove, nor billows sweep,
Where rest not England’s Dead.
HEMANS.
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