The _Kearsarge_ then she wore around and broadside on did bear, With shot and shell and right good-will, her timbers she did tear; When they found that they were sinking, down came the stars and bars, For the rebel gunners could not stand the glorious stripes and stars. Hoist up the flag, and long may it wave Over the Union, the home of the brave! Hoist up the flag, and long may it wave, God bless America, the home of the brave! The _Alabama_ she is gone, she’ll cruise the seas no more, She met the fate she well deserved along the Frenchman’s shore; Then here is luck to the _Kearsarge_ we know what she can do, Likewise to Captain Winslow and his brave and gallant crew. Hoist up the flag, and long may it wave Over the Union, the home of the brave! Hoist up the flag, and long may it wave, God bless America, the home of the brave! [Illustration] THE BAY FIGHT (Mobile Harbor, August 8, 1864.) BY HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL. Three days through sapphire seas we sailed, The steady Trade blew strong and free, The Northern Light his banners paled, The Ocean Stream our channels wet, We rounded low Canaveral’s lee, And passed the isles of emerald set In blue Bahama’s turquoise sea. By reef and shoal obscurely mapped, And hauntings of the gray sea-wolf, The palmy Western Key lay lapped In the warm washing of the Gulf. But weary to the hearts of all The burning glare, the barren reach Of Santa Rosa’s withered beach, And Pensacola’s ruined wall. And weary was the long patrol, The thousand miles of shapeless strand, From Brazos to San Blas that roll Their drifting dunes of desert sand. Yet coastwise as we cruised or lay, The land-breeze still at nightfall bore, By beach and fortress-guarded bay, Sweet odors from the enemy’s shore, Fresh from the forest solitudes, Unchallenged of his sentry lines,-- The bursting of his cypress buds, And the warm fragrance of his pines. Ah, never braver bark and crew, Nor bolder Flag a foe to dare, Had left a wake on ocean blue Since Lion-Heart sailed Trenc-le-mer! But little gain by that dark ground Was ours, save, sometime, freer breath For friend or brother strangely found, ’Scaped from the drear domain of death. And little venture for the bold, Or laurel for our valiant Chief, Save some blockaded British thief, Full fraught with murder in his hold, Caught unawares at ebb or flood, Or dull bombardment, day by day, With fort and earthwork, far away, Low couched in sullen leagues of mud. A weary time,--but to the strong The day at last, as ever, came; And the volcano, laid so long, Leaped forth in thunder and in flame!