BY HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL.

[Admiral Farragut was so impressed with this irregular but spirited description of the river battle below New Orleans that he sought out the author and their acquaintance ended in a warm friendship. Brownell having expressed a desire to witness a naval conflict, Farragut took him on board the Flagship Hartford at the time of the storming of the Mobile forts, and the poet repaid the courtesy with the poem which appears elsewhere in this collection, called "The Bay Fight.”— EDITOR.]

De land such region may seem,

you know of the dreary land,

Where 't is neither sea nor strand,

Ocean, nor good, dry land,

But the nightmare marsh of a dream?

Where the Mighty River his death-road takes,
'Mid pools and windings that coil like snakes,
A hundred leagues of bayous and lakes,

To die in the great Gulf Stream?

No coast-line clear and true,
Granite and deep-sea blue,

On that dismal shore you pass,
Surf-worn boulder or sandy beach,-

But ooze-flats as far as the eye can reach,
With shallows of water-grass;

Reedy Savannahs, vast and dun,

Lying dead in the dim March sun;

Huge, rotting trunks and roots that lie

Like the blackened bones of shapes gone by, And miles of sunken morass.

No lovely, delicate thing

Of life o'er the waste is seen

But the cayman couched by his weedy spring,
And the pelican, bird unclean,

Or the buzzard, flapping with heavy wing,
Like an evil ghost o'er the desolate scene.

Ah! many a weary day

With our Leader there we lay.
In the sultry haze and smoke,
Tugging our ships o'er the bar,
Till the spring was wasted far,
Till his brave heart almost broke.

For the sullen river seemed

As if our intent he dreamed,—

All his sallow mouths did spew and choke.

But ere April fully passed

All ground over at last

And we knew the die was cast,

Knew the day drew nigh

To dare to the end one stormy deed,

Might save the land at her sorest need,
Or on the old deck to die!

Anchored we lay,-and a morn the more,
To his captains and all his men
Thus wrote our old commodore-
(He was n't Admiral then) :-
"GENERAL ORDERS:

Send your to'gallant masts down,
Rig in each flying jib-boom!
Clear all ahead for the loom
Of traitor fortress and town,
Or traitor fleet bearing down

"In with your canvas high; We shall want no sail to fly!

Top sail, foresail, spanker, and jib,

(With the heart of oak in the oaken rib,)

Shall serve us to win or die!

"Trim every sail by the head,

(So shall you spare the lead,)

Lest if she ground, your ship swing round,

Bows in shore, for a wreck,

See your grapnels all clear with pains,

And a solid kedge in your port main-chains, With a whip to the main yard:

Drop it heavy and hard

When you grappel a traitor deck!

"On forecastle and on poop

Mount guns, as best you may deem.
If possible, rouse them up

(For still you must bow the stream).
Also hoist and secure with stops
Howitzers firmly in your tops,
To fire on the foe abeam.

"Look well to your pumps and hose;
Have water tubs fore and aft,

For quenching flame in your craft,
And the gun crew's fiery thirst.
See planks with felt fitted close,
To plug every shot-hole tight.
Stand ready to meet the worst!
For, if I have reckoned aright,
They will serve us shot,
Both cold and hot,

Freely enough to-night.

“Mark well each signal I make,— (Our life-long service at stake,

And honor that must not lag!)
What e'er the peril and awe,
In the battle's fieriest flaw,
Let never one ship withdraw
Till the orders come from the flag!

Would you hear of the river fight?
It was two of a soft spring night;
God's stars looked down on all;
And all was clear and bright
But the low fog's clinging breath;
Up the River of Death

Sailed the great Admiral.

On our high poop-deck he stood,
And round him ranged the men
Who have made their birthright good
Of manhood once and again,—

Lords of helm and of sail,
Tried in tempest and gale,
Bronzed in battle and wreck.
Bell and Bailey grandly led

Each his line of the Blue and Red;

Wainwright stood by our starboard rail;
Thornton fought the deck.