232 THE LAST CRUISE OF THE MIRANDA. 



And when he comes to meat and bread, 



I know 'tis but a fiction, 

 And yet, methinks the clock hands spread 



To give our benediction. 



Till hearts are dead, till eyes are dim, 

 We shall forget him never ; 



And may our blessings bide with him 

 Forever and forever. 



So I drink to one, he is not here, 

 Yet I would guard his glory ; 



A knight without reproach or fear 

 Should live in song and story. 



A heart as gentle as a lass, 



Yet bold as any eagle ; 

 O comrades, rise ! I fill this glass 



To Dixon of the Rigel ! 



