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In hot pursuit of the flying flame,
Now cannon-peals of the thunder came;
And in the midst of the crash of sound,
Were screams from women clustering round,
And even men, with their teeth close-set,
Were shivering at what might come yet,
And nerves were shaken that would not yield
If tested upon the battle-field.
The old sea-captain, astir once more,
Seemed happier than all day before;
And certain tidings his manner lent,
That now he was in his element.
Our hardihood through the storm he steered;
He comforted those who weakly feared;
He sang this song—which a contrast bore
To his grim story some hours before: