But when, on the morning of March 9, 1862, the Merrimac steamed out again into Hampton Roads, a new antagonist confronted her—the Monitor, Ericsson's eccentric boat, which had arrived from New York the night before. The ships approached each other, like David and Goliath. A battle followed, unique in naval warfare, the first duel of ironclads the world had ever seen. It ended in the Merrimac retreating to Norfolk, badly damaged.
[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!
But with their fate is glory wrought,
Those hearts of oak like heroes fought
With desperate hope to win the day,
And crush the foe that 'fore them lay.
Our flag up run, the last-fired gun,
Tokens how bravely duty was done.
Flushed with success, the victor flew,
Furious, the startled squadron through:
Sinking, burning, driving ashore,
Until that Sabbath day was o'er,
Resting at night to renew the fight
With vengeful ire by morning's light.