But as we ranged ahead,
And the leading ships worked in,
Losing their hope to win,
The enemy turned and fled—
And one seeks a shallow reach!
And another, winged in her flight,
Our mate, brave Jouett, brings in;—
And one, all torn in the fight,
Runs for a wreck on the beach,
Where her flames soon fire the night.
And the Ram, when well up the Bay,
And we looked that our stems should meet
(He had us fair for a prey),
Shifting his helm midway,
Sheered off, and ran for the fleet;
There, without skulking or sham,
He fought them gun for gun;
And ever he sought to ram,
But could finish never a one.
From the first of the iron shower
Till we sent our parting shell,
'Twas just one savage hour
Of the roar and the rage of hell.
With the lessening smoke and thunder,
Our glasses around we aim,—
What is that burning yonder?
Our Philippi—aground and in flame!
Below, 'twas still all a-roar,
As the ships went by the shore,
But the fire of the Fort had slacked
(So fierce their volleys had been),—
And now with a mighty din,
The whole fleet came grandly in,
Though sorely battered and wracked.
So, up the Bay we ran,
The Flag to port and ahead,—
And a pitying rain began
To wash the lips of our dead.
A league from the Fort we lay,
And deemed that the end must lag,—
When lo! looking down the Bay,
There flaunted the Rebel Rag;—
The Ram is again under way
And heading dead for the Flag!
Steering up with the stream,
Boldly his course he lay,
Though the fleet all answered his fire,
And, as he still drew nigher,
Ever on bow and beam
Our Monitors pounded away;
How the Chickasaw hammered away!
Quickly breasting the wave,
Eager the prize to win,
First of us all the brave
Monongahela went in
Under full head of steam;—
Twice she struck him abeam,
Till her stem was a sorry work
(She might have run on a crag!),
The Lackawanna hit fair,
He flung her aside like cork,
And still he held for the Flag.
High in the mizzen shroud
(Lest the smoke his sight o'erwhelm),
Our Admiral's voice rang loud;
"Hard-a-starboard your helm!
Starboard, and run him down!"
Starboard it was,—and so,
Like a black squall's lifting frown,
Our mighty bow bore down
On the iron beak of the Foe.