Which of you looks for a service free? 
  (Hear what the sea-wind saith)
The rules o’ the service are but three
  When ye sail with Admiral Death. 
Steady your hand in time o’ squalls,
Stand to the last by him that falls,
And answer clear to the voice that calls,
  “Ay, Ay!  Admiral Death!”

How will ye know him among the rest? 
  (Hear what the sea-wind saith)
By the glint o’ the stars that cover his breast
  Ye may find Admiral Death. 
By the forehead grim with an ancient scar,
By the voice that rolls like thunder far,
By the tenderest eyes of all that are,
  Ye may know Admiral Death.

Where are the lads that sailed before? 
  (Hear what the sea-wind saith)
Their bones are white by many a shore,
  They sleep with Admiral Death. 
Oh! but they loved him, young and old,
For he left the laggard, and took the bold,
And the fight was fought, and the story’s told,
  And they sleep with Admiral Death.

Homeward Bound

After long labouring in the windy ways,
  On smooth and shining tides
  Swiftly the great ship glides,
    Her storms forgot, her weary watches past;
Northward she glides, and through the enchanted haze
    Faint on the verge her far hope dawns at last.

The phantom sky-line of a shadowy down,
  Whose pale white cliffs below
  Through sunny mist aglow,
    Like noon-day ghosts of summer moonshine gleam—–­
Soft as old sorrow, bright as old renown,
    There lies the home, of all our mortal dream.

Gillespie.

Riding at dawn, riding alone,
  Gillespie left the town behind;
Before he turned by the Westward road
  A horseman crossed him, staggering blind.

“The Devil’s abroad in false Vellore,
  The Devil that stabs by night,” he said,
“Women and children, rank and file,
  Dying and dead, dying and dead.”

Without a word, without a groan,
  Sudden and swift Gillespie turned,
The blood roared in his ears like fire,
  Like fire the road beneath him burned.

He thundered back to Arcot gate,
  He thundered up through Arcot town,
Before he thought a second thought
  In the barrack yard he lighted down.

“Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons,
  Sound to saddle and spur,” he said;
“He that is ready may ride with me,
  And he that can may ride ahead.”

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain,
  Behind him went the troopers grim,
They rode as ride the Light Dragoons
  But never a man could ride with him.

Their rowels ripped their horses’ sides,
  Their hearts were red with a deeper goad,
But ever alone before them all
  Gillespie rode, Gillespie rode.

Alone he came to false Vellore,
  The walls were lined, the gates were barred;
Alone he walked where the bullets bit,
  And called above to the Sergeant’s Guard.