A Voice from the Invisible World

HIGH o'er his mouldering 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 'baric on Ocean's breast.