ON BOARD THE CUMBERLAND.
We reached the deck. There Randall stood:
"Another turn, men—so!"
Calmly he aimed his pivot-gun:
"Now, Tenny, let her go!"
It did our sore hearts good to hear
The song our pivot sang,
As rushing on from wave to wave
The whirring bomb-shell sprang.
Brave Randall leaped upon the gun.
And waved his cap in sport;"
Well done! well aimed! I saw that shell
Go through an open port."
It was our last, our deadliest shot;
The deck was overflown;
The poor ship staggered, lurched to port,
And gave a living groan.
Down, down, as headlong through the waves
Our gallant vessel rushed,
A thousand gurgling watery sounds
Around my senses gushed.
Then I remember little more.
One look to heaven I gave,
Where, like an angel's wing, I saw
Our spotless ensign wave.
I tried to cheer. I cannot say
Whether I swam or sank;
A blue mist closed around my eyes,
And everything was blank.
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