THE FATE OF THE HORNET.
I.
The summer sun is on the wave,
The zephyr seeks the sea,
And ripples, dancing round her, lave
The bulwark of the free.
How beautiful and brave a thing!
The rising swell she rides,
While sun and shade uniting fling
Their colors on her sides.
II.
Her decks, on which the sunbeams play,
Are girt by many a gun,
That guard our fame by night and day,
Where laurels green are won.
And ever may she lift on high
The banner of our glory,
Bearing in every azure sky
The stars that tell our story.
III.
And though the tempest clouds may lower
Above the angry deep,
And storms, with wild convulsive power,
Around that vessel sweep,
While there is yet one shattered sail
To flutter in the blast,
Oh may she bear through gloom and gale
That banner to the last.
IV.
But why discourse of things like these?
No cloud its shadow flings,
And kindly blows the western breeze
To lend the sea-bird wings.
The lately-flapping sail it swells,
And sings along the tide,
As musical as village bells,
That hail a happy bride.
V.
The warlike ship yields gracefully
Before the welcome wind,
And, slowly fading in her lee,
The land is left behind.
One loud hurrah, that rent the air,
Broke from her iron men.
Alas! that crew and vessel ne’er
Shall enter port again.
VI.
Not when the guns in fury sent
Their message to the foe—
When clouds were in the firmament,
And surges were below—
When rose the wild and loud hurrah
Of ocean’s stormy strife—
Amidst the crash of plank and spar
The crew gave up their life:
VII.
But when the sky was calm and blue,
And far as eye could see,
No hostile ship or squadron threw
A shadow on the sea.
At such a tide and such an hour
Was heard a rushing sound,
And, lashed by a resistless power,
The waves grew white around.
VIII.
Ere pious lips could form a prayer,
Or feeble ones a cry,
The heaving sea had ceased to bear
That gallant ship on high.
Gone were the lovely and the brave,
Old ocean was alone,
And only gave to mark their grave
A bubble and a moan.