When Israel camped by Migdol hoar, Down at her feet her shawm she threw, But Moses sung and timbrels rung For Pharaoh's standed crew.
So God appears in apt events — The Lord is a man of war! So the strong wind to the muse is given In victory's roar.
Deep be the ode that hymns the fleet — The fight by night — the fray Which bore our Flag against the powerful stream, And led it up to day.
Dully through din of larger strife Shall bay that warring gun; But none the less to us who live It peals — an echoing one.
The shock of ships, the jar of walls, The rush through thick and thin — The flaring fire-rafts, glare and gloom — Eddies, and shells that spin —
The boom-chain burst, the hulks dislodged, The jam of gun-boats driven, Or fired, or sunk — made up a war Like Michael's waged with leven.
The manned Varuna stemmed and quelled The odds which hard beset; The oaken flag-ship, half ablaze, Passed on and thundered yet;
While foundering, gloomed in grimy flame, The Ram Manassas — hark the yell!— Plunged, and was gone; in joy or fright, The River gave a startled swell.
They fought through lurid dark till dawn; The war-smoke rolled away With clouds of night, and showed the fleet In scarred yet firm array,
Above the forts, above the drift Of wrecks which strife had made; And Farragut sailed up to the town And anchored — sheathed the blade.
The moody broadsides, brooding deep, Hold the lewd mob at bay, While o'er the armed decks’ solemn aisles The meek church-pennons play;
By shotted guns the sailors stand, With foreheads bound or bare; The captains and the conquering crews Humble their pride in prayer.
They pray; and after victory, prayer Is meet for men who mourn their slain; The living shall unmoor and sail, But Death's dark anchor secret deeps detain.
Yet glory slants her shaft of rays Far through the undisturbed abyss; There must be other, nobler worlds for them Who nobly yield their lives in this.
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