O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won.
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring.
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
WALT WHITMAN: _O Captain! My Captain_! (On Death of Lincoln.)
A rude and boisterous captain of the sea.
JOHN HOME: _Douglas,_ Act iv., Sc. 1.