Lashed to his flagship’s mast,|
Old Farragut, through iron-guarded bays,
Through fleets of fire, through batteries ablaze,
By shot and shell harassed,
While wreck and ruin seemed to block his way,
And splintered spars spread sprinkling on the
Guiding his fleet throughout the frightful fray,
Into the harbor passed;
And sullen forts grew calm and still
Beneath the victor’s iron will,
Subdued and crushed at last.
O Blaine! amid the glare
Of party ruin, take the ship of state;
We bind thee to its mast, thou statesman great;
And thine must be the care
To guide it on through rocks and reefs that vex
The changing channel with a thousand wrecks.
And though the surge shall sweep its sacred
We know thou wilt not spare
Thy efforts to conduct it by
The rocks and reefs that seem to lie
Around it everywhere.