With his calm face fresh on the trampled clay,
And the brave hands clasped o'er the manly breast:
Save the sanguine stains on his jacket gray,
We might deem him taking a soldier's rest.
Ah no! Too red is that crimson tide--
Too deeply pierced that wounded side;
Youth, hope, love, glory--manhood's pride--
Have all in vain Death's bolt defied.
His faithful carbine lies useless there,
As it dropped from its master's nerveless ward;
And the sunbeams glance on his waving hair
Which the fallen cap has ceased to guard--
Oh Heaven! spread o'er it thy merciful shield,
No more to my sight be the battle revealed!
Oh fiercer than tempest--grim Hades as dread--
On woman's eye flashes the field of the dead!
The scene is changed: In a quiet room,
Far from the spot where the lone corse lies,
A mother kneels in the evening gloom
To offer her nightly sacrifice.
The noon is past, and the day is done,
She knows that the battle is lost or won--
Who lives? Who died? Hush! be thou still!
The boy lies dead on the trench-barred hill.
Battle of Hampton Roads.
By Ossian D. Gorman.
Ne'er had a scene of beauty smiled
On placid waters 'neath the sun,
Like that on Hampton's watery plain,
The fatal morn the fight begun.
Far toward the silvery Sewell shores,
Below the guns of Craney Isle,
Were seen our fleet advancing fast,
Beneath the sun's auspicious smile.
Oh, fatal sight! the hostile hordes
Of Newport camp spread dire alarms:
The Cumberland for fight prepares--
The fierce marines now rush to arms.
The Merrimac, strong cladded o'er,
In quarters close begins her fire,
Nor fears the rushing hail of shot,
And deadly missiles swift and dire;
But, rushing on 'mid smoke and flame,
And belching thunder long and loud,
Salutes the ship with bow austere,
And then withdraws in wreaths of cloud.
The work is done. The frigate turns
In agonizing, doubtful poise--
She sinks, she sinks! along the deck
Is heard a shrieking, wailing noise.
Engulfed beneath those placid waves
Disturbed by battle's onward surge,
The crew is gone; the vessel sleeps,
And whistling bombshells sing her dirge.
The battle still is raging fierce:
The Congress, "high and dry" aground,
Maintains in vain her boasted power,
For now the gunboats flock around,
With "stars and bars" at mainmast reared,
And pour their lightning on the main,
While Merrimac, approaching fast
Sends forth her shell and hot-shot rain.
Meantime the Jamestown, gallant boat,
Engages strong redoubts at land--
While Patrick Henry glides along,
To board the Congress, still astrand.
This done, we turn intently on
The Minnesota, which replies,
With whizzing shell to Teuser's gun,
Whose booming cleaves the distant skies.
The naval combat sounds anew;
The hostile fleets are not withdrawn,
Though night is closing earth and sea
In twilight's pale and mystic dawn.
Strange whistling noises fill the air;
The powdered smoke looks dark as night,
And deadly, lurid flames, pour forth
Their radiance on the missiles' flight;
Grand picture on the noisy waves!
The breezy zephyrs onward roam,
And echoing volleys float afar,
Disturbing Neptune's coral home.
The victory's ours, and let the world
Record Buchanan's[1] name with pride;
The crew is brave, the banner bright,
That ruled the day when Hutter[2] died.