That to the ocean seemed to say,
"Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray;
Take her to thy protecting arms,
With all her youth and all her charms."

How beautiful she is! how fair
She lies within those arms, that press
Her form with many a soft caress
Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O ship!

Through wind and wave, right onward steer!
he moistened eye, the trembling lip,
Are not the signs of doubt or fear.

Thou too, sail on, O ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,

With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge, and what a heat,

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope.

Fear not each sudden sound and shock;
"Tis of the wave, and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale.
Spite of rock and tempest roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea:
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee-are all with thee.

At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
On board of the Cumberland, sloop-of-war;
And at times from the fortress across the bay
The alarum of drums swept past,

Or a bugle blast

From the camp on the shore.

Then far away to the south uprose

A little feather of snow-white smoke, And we knew that the iron ship of our foes Was steadily steering its course,

To try the force,

Of our ribs of oak.

Down upon us heavily runs,

Silent and sullen, the floating fort;

Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
And leaps the terrible death,

With fiery breath,

From each open port.

We are not idle but send her straight
Defiance back in a full broadside!
As hail rebounds from a roof of slate,
Rebounds our heavier hail

From each iron scale

Of the monster's hide.

"Strike your flag!" the rebel cries,
In his arrogant old plantation strain.
"Never!" our gallant Morris replies;

"It is better to sink than to yield !"
And the whole air pealed

With the cheers of the men.

Then, like a kraken huge and black,
She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp!
Down went the Cumberland all a wrack,
With a sudden shudder of death,
And the cannon's breath

For her dying gasp.

Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay,
Still floated our flag at the mainmast-head.
Lord, how beautiful was thy day!

Every waft of the air

Was a whisper of prayer,

Or a dirge for the dead.

Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas!

Ye are at peace in the troubled stream,
Ho! brave land! with hearts like these,

Thy flag, that is rent in twain,

Shall be one again,

And without a seam!

THE RAVEN.

(EDGAR A. POE.)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak

and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door.

""Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber-door

Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak Decem

ber,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wish'd the morrow: vainly I had sought to

borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore

Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain,

Thrill'd me-fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt

before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood

repeating,

""Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamberdoor,

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamberdoor;

That it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I open'd wide the door;

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word, "Lenore !"

This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word, "LENORE!"

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice;

Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore,

Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;

'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepp'd a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopp'd or stay'd he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my chamber-door,

Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamberdoor

Perched and sat and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into

smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it

wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven;

Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore,

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore?"

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore !"