« EelmineJätka »
Moist-moist with the luminous breath of the singing spheres
And the nation's starry tears ! And tremble-touched by the pulse-like gush and start Of the universal music of the heart,
And all deep sympathy.
Laurels and tears for thee-
For thee !
And laurels of light, and tears of truth,
And the mantle of immortality ;
And the everlasting victory !
Dear warrior-boy-like thee.
O the victory—the victory
Belongs to thee!
He gives it now to thee !
Thrice, thrice, thrice blest !
My darling, thou shalt rest!”
T anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
On board the Cumberland sloop of war, And at times from the fortress across the bay
The alarm of drums swept past,
Or a bugle blast
A little feather of snow-white smoke,
Was steadily steering its course
To try the force
Down upon us heavily runs,
Silent and sullen, the floating fort, Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
And leaps the terrible death,
With fiery breath,
We are not idle but send her straight
Defiance back in a full broadside! As hail rebounds from a roof of slate
Rebounds our heavier hail
From each iron scale
"Strike your flag!” the rebel cries,
In his arrogant old plantation strain. "Never!” our gallant Morris replies;
“It is better to sink than to yield."
And the whole air pealed
Then like a kraken, huge and black
She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp! Down went the Cumberland all awrack,
With a sudden shudder of death,
And the cannon's breath
Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay,
Still floated our flag at the mainmast head. Lord, how beautiful was Thy day!
Every waft of the air
Was a whisper of prayer,
Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas,
Ye are at peace in the troubled stream. Ho! brave land! with hearts like these,
Thy flag, that is rent in twain,
Shall be one again,