⁠And fierce denouncing flame.
Yet shots from four dark hulls embayed
⁠Come raking through the loyal crews,
⁠Whom now each dying mate endues
With his last look, anguished yet undismayed.

A flowering time to guilt is given,
⁠And traitors have their glorying hour;
O late, but sure, the righteous Paramount comes—
⁠Palsy is on their power!
So proved it with the rebel keels,
⁠The strong-holds past: assailed, they run;
⁠The Selma strikes, and the work is done:
The dropping anchor the achievement seals.

But no, she turns—the Tennessee!
⁠The solid Ram of iron and oak,
Strong as Evil, and bold as Wrong, though lone—
⁠A pestilence in her smoke.
The flag-ship is her singled mark,
⁠The wooden Hartford. Let her come;
⁠She challenges the planet of Doom,
And naught shall save her—not her iron bark.