Great crashing volleys, long and loud,
Swept from the decks the Spaniards proud,
Then wrapped their boats in a smoky shroud,
And left them beached and burning.
Their decks in human blood were laved,
O'er which the yellow banner waved
So vauntingly that morning.
That eve the sunset's crimson ray
Touched gently, softly, tenderly
The waves that moaned where the lost fleet lay,—