At last the Merrimac ended the gigantic contest by turning her prow and withdrawing to Norfolk.
THE CRUISE OF THE MONITOR
Hampton Roads, Virginia, March 9, 1862
OUT of a Northern city’s bay,
’Neath lowering clouds, one bleak March day,
Glided a craft,—the like I ween,
On ocean’s crest was never seen
Since Noah’s float,
That ancient boat,
Could o’er a conquered deluge gloat.
No raking masts, with clouds of sail,
Bent to the breeze or braved the gale;
No towering chimney’s wreaths of smoke
Betrayed the mighty engine’s stroke;
But low and dark,
Like the crafty shark,
Moved in the waters this novel bark.
The fishers stared as the flitting sprite
Passed their huts in the misty light,
Bearing a turret huge and black,
And said, “The old sea serpent’s back
Carting away,
By light of day,
Uncle Sam’s fort from New York bay.”
Forth from a Southern city’s dock
Our frigates’ strong blockade to mock,
Crept a monster of rugged build,
The work of crafty hands, well skilled—
Old Merrimac,
With an iron back
Wooden ships would find hard to crack.
Straight to where the Cumberland lay
The mail-clad monster made its way;
Its deadly prow struck deep and sure,
And the hero’s fighting days were o’er.
Ah! many the braves
Who found their graves
With that good ship beneath the waves.
Flushed with success, the victor flew,
Furious, the startled squadron through;
Sinking, burning, driving ashore,
Until the Sabbath day was o’er,
Resting at night,
To renew the fight
With vengeful ire by morning’s light.
Out of its den it burst anew,
When the gray mist the sun broke through,
Steaming to where, in clinging sands,
The frigate Minnesota stands,
A sturdy foe
To overthrow,
But in woeful plight to receive a blow.