It was our last, our deadliest shot; The deck was over-flown: The poor ship staggered, lurched to port, And gave a living groan.
Down, down, as headlong through the waves Our gallant vessel rushed, A thousand gurgling, watery sounds Around my senses gushed.
Then I remember little more; One look to heaven I gave, Where, like an angel’s wing, I saw Our spotless ensign wave.
I tried to cheer, I cannot say Whether I swam or sank; A blue mist closed around my eyes, And every thing was blank.
When I awoke, a soldier-lad, All dripping from the sea, With two great tears upon his cheeks, Was bending over me.
I tried to speak. He understood The wish I could not speak. He turned me. There, thank God! the flag Still fluttered at the peak!
And there, while thread shall hang to thread, O let that ensign fly! The noblest constellation set Against our northern sky.
A sign that we who live may claim The peerage of the brave; A monument, that needs no scroll, For those beneath the wave!
