The Figure-head of the Caledonia at her Captain's Grave

We laid them in their lowly rest,
The strangers of a distant shore ;
We smoothed the green turf on their breast,
'Mid baffled Ocean's angry roar ;
And there, the relique of the storm,
We fixed fair Scotland's figured form.

She watches by her bold, her brave,
Her shield towards the fatal sea :
Their cherished lady of the wave
Is guardian of their memory.
Stern is her look, but calm, for there
No gale can rend or billow bear.

Stand, silent image ! stately stand,
Where sighs shall breathe and tears be shed,
And many a heart of Cornish land,
Will soften for the stranger dead.
They came in paths of storm ; they found
This quiet home in Christian ground.