And at last, when the dim day broke,
And the sullen sun awoke,

Drearily blinking

O'er the haze and the cannon smoke,

That ever such morning dulls,—
There were thirteen traitor hulls
On fire and sinking!

Now, up the river!-through mad Chalmette
Sputters a vain resistance yet,

Small helm we gave her our course to steer,—
'T was nicer work then you well would dream,
With cant and sheer to keep her clear

Of the burning wrecks that cumbered the strean.

The Louisiana, hurled on high,

Mounts in thunder to meet the sky!

Then down to the depths of the turbid flood,
Fifty fathom of rebel mud!

The Mississippi comes floating down,
A mighty bonfire from off the town;
And along the river, on stocks and ways,
A half-hatched devil's brood is ablaze,—
The great Anglo-Norman is all in flames,
(Hark to the roar of her trembling frames!)
And the smaller fry that Treason would spawn
Are lighting Algiers like an angry dawn!

From stem to stern, how the pirates burn,
Fired by the furious hands that built!
So to ashes forever turn

The suicide wrecks of wrong and guilt!

But as we neared the city,
By field and vast plantation,
(Ah ! millstone of our nation!)
With wonder and with pity,
What crowds we there espied
Of dark and wistful faces,
Mute in their toiling places,
Strangely and sadly eyed,
Haply 'mid doubt and fear,
Deeming deliverance near,
(One gave the ghost of a cheer!)

And on that dolorous strand,
To greet the victor brave,
One flag did welcome wave-
Raised, ah me! by a wretched hand,
All outworn on our cruel land,-
The withered hand of a slave !

But all along the levee,

In a dark and drenching rain,
(By this 't was pouring heavy,)
Stood a fierce and sullen train,
A strange and frenzied time!

There were scowling rage and pain,
Curses, howls, and hisses,

Out of Hate's black abysses,-
Their courage and their crime

All in vain-all in vain!

For from the hour that the Rebel Stream With the Crescent City lying abeat, Shuddered under our keel,

Smit to the heart with self-struck sting, Slavery died in her scorpion-ring

And Murder fell on his steel.

'T is well to do and dare;
But ever may grateful prayer
Follow, as aye it ought,

When the good fight is fought,
When the true deed is done.
Aloft in heaven's pure light,
(Deep azure crossed on white,)
Our fair Church pennant waves
O'er a thousand thankful braves,
Bareheaded in God's bright sun.

Lord of mercy and frown,
Ruling o'er sea and shore,

Send us such scene once more!
All in line of battle

When the black ships bear down On tyrant fort and town,

'Mid cannon cloud and rattle; And the great guns once more Thunder back the roar

Of the traitor walls ashore,

And the traitor flags come down.

P from the south, at break of day,

UP

Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more,

And Sheridan twenty miles away.

And wider still those billows of war
Thunder'd along the horizon's bar;
And louder yet into Winchester roll'd