 | The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell |  |
189
NEW ORLEANS WON BACK.
A LAY FOR OUR SAILORS.
Catch—Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
There lay the town that our guns looked down,
With its streets all dark and surly.
Up in the morning early!
There lay the town that our guns looked down,
With its streets all dark and surly.
God made three youths to walk unscathed
In the furnace seven times hot;
And when smoky flames our squadron bathed,
Amid horrors of shell and shot,
Then, too, it was God that brought them through
That death-crowded thoroughfare:
So now, at six bells, the church pennons flew,
And the crews went all to prayer.
Thank God! Thank God! our men won the fight,
Against forts, and fleet, and flame:
Thank God! they have given our flag its right
In a town that brought it shame.
In the furnace seven times hot;
And when smoky flames our squadron bathed,
Amid horrors of shell and shot,
Then, too, it was God that brought them through
That death-crowded thoroughfare:
So now, at six bells, the church pennons flew,
And the crews went all to prayer.
Thank God! Thank God! our men won the fight,
Against forts, and fleet, and flame:
190
In a town that brought it shame.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
Our flag hung there, in the fresh, still air,
With smoke floating soft and curly.
Up in the morning early!
Our flag hung there, in the fresh, still air,
With smoke floating soft and curly.
Ten days for the deep ships at the bar;
Six days for the mortar fleet,
That battered the great forts from afar;
And then, to that deadly street!
A flash! Our strong ships snapped the boom,
To the fire-rafts and the forts,
To crush and crash, and flash and gloom,
And iron beaks fumbling their ports.
From the dark came the raft, in flame and smoke;
In the dark came the iron beak;
But our sailors' hearts were stouter than oak,
And the false foe's iron weak.
Six days for the mortar fleet,
That battered the great forts from afar;
And then, to that deadly street!
A flash! Our strong ships snapped the boom,
To the fire-rafts and the forts,
To crush and crash, and flash and gloom,
And iron beaks fumbling their ports.
From the dark came the raft, in flame and smoke;
In the dark came the iron beak;
But our sailors' hearts were stouter than oak,
And the false foe's iron weak.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
Before they knew, they had burst safe through,
And left the forts, grim and burly.
Up in the morning early!
191
And left the forts, grim and burly.
Though it be brute's work, not man's, to tear
Live limbs like slivered wood;
Yet, to dare, and to stand, and to take death for share,
Are as much as the angels could.
Our men towed the blazing rafts ashore;
They battered the great rams down;
Scarce a wreck floated where was a fleet before,
When our ships came up to the town.
There were miles of batteries yet to be dared,
But they quenched these all, as in play;
Then, with their yards squared, and their guns' mouths bared,
They held the great town at bay.
Live limbs like slivered wood;
Yet, to dare, and to stand, and to take death for share,
Are as much as the angels could.
Our men towed the blazing rafts ashore;
They battered the great rams down;
Scarce a wreck floated where was a fleet before,
When our ships came up to the town.
There were miles of batteries yet to be dared,
But they quenched these all, as in play;
Then, with their yards squared, and their guns' mouths bared,
They held the great town at bay.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
Our stout ships came through shell, shot, and flame,
But the town will not always be surly;
Up in the morning early!
Our stout ships came through shell, shot, and flame,
But the town will not always be surly;
192
For this Crescent City takes to its breast
The Father of Waters' tide;
And here shall the wealth of our world, in the West,
Meet wealth of the world beside:
Here the date-palm and the olive find
A near and equal sun;
And a hundred broad, deep rivers wind
To the summer-sea in one:
Hear the Fall steals all old Winter's ice,
And the Spring steals all his snow;
While he but smiles at their artifice,
And lets his own nature go.
The Father of Waters' tide;
And here shall the wealth of our world, in the West,
Meet wealth of the world beside:
Here the date-palm and the olive find
A near and equal sun;
And a hundred broad, deep rivers wind
To the summer-sea in one:
Hear the Fall steals all old Winter's ice,
And the Spring steals all his snow;
While he but smiles at their artifice,
And lets his own nature go.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
May that flag float here till the earth's last year,
With the lake mists, fair and pearly.
Up in the morning early!
May that flag float here till the earth's last year,
With the lake mists, fair and pearly.
Duanesburgh, May 27, 1862.
| The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell | |