Classic Poem

Ha ! sound the clashing cymbals! blow loud a trumpet blast!
Let clarion notes re-echo the tidings far and fast!
Lo! fallen on the field of strife the giant that defied
Our little David when he came with stones from streamlet's side.
Smote was he on that sabbath morn when gallant Worden fought,
Now stripped of weapons, armor, all, his head in triumph brought.

As Salem's maidens calmly viewed Goliath's harmless head,
So to the bowers of ladies fair the Merrimac is sped, —
The blackened ruins, chip by chip, are borne across the land;
And gentle spirits bless the Power that gave it to each hand.
For, hearken! have you heart the tale? (it is unfolded far,)
No more the Merrimac defies our little Monitor.
Forsaken! burned! exploded! then was strewn the waters dark
With remnants of the shattered, aye, ruined rebel barque;
And thus, ere long, shall perish the vile confederate host, —
Melt like the dew of morning, and be forever lost;
Each man, reluctantly compelled to serve the rebel cause,
When Union forces break his chains, trampling the flag of bars,
And traitors find in flight or fight their only, last resource,
Save when they take the Merrimac's own suicidal course.
Yes! bid triumphal music wake the echoes far and wide;
For the charred, misshapen fragments upon the James's tide
Alone can show the Merrimac, that terror of the hour,
When iron-clad vessels over wood displayed their fearful power.
Revenged are ye who at your post, the Cumberland, went down;
Revenged, ye of the Congress whose death hath won renown;
Revenged! for in her suicide she hath confessed her wrong.
Like justice shall be meted yet to all the rebel throng.