Page:Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.djvu/85

Rh How dread to mark her near the glare

And glade of death the beacon throws

Athwart the racing waters there;

One by one each plainer grows,

Then speeds a blazoned target to our gladdened foes.

The impartial cresset lights as well

The fixed forts to the boats that run;

And, plunged from the ports, their answers swell

Back to each fortress dun:

Ponderous words speaks every monster gun.

Fearless they flash through gates of flame,

The salamanders hard to hit,

Though vivid shows each bulky frame;

And never the batteries intermit,

Nor the boats huge guns; they fire and flit.

Anon a lull. The beacon dies:

"Are they out of that strait accurst"

But other flames now dawning rise,

Not mellowly brilliant like the first,

But rolled in smoke, whose whitish volumes burst.