Then the bluff Sir Peter cried, “Though they lower Clinton’s pride, And with front as stern as iron Are arrayed, There’s a joint within their mail— To their western front shall sail The _Actæon_, _Sphynx_, and _Siren_, And the fortress enfilade.” [Illustration: SIR PETER PARKER.] Oh, the admiral was too free With his gallant frigates three! It were better had he kept them As they were; For the Middle Shoal they found, Where they snugly lay aground, While so bloodily we swept them With our iron besoms there. They were taught full soon aright That the bravest man in flight May, when perils dire environ, Safety find: Soon, by aid of sail and sweep, From the shoal unto the deep [Illustration: MOULTRIE MONUMENT, WITH JASPER’S STATUE.] They restored the _Sphynx_ and _Siren_: But the other stayed behind. Gnawed the admiral his lip; Yet the combat from his ship Coolly, ’mid our fire so deadly, Guided he, Though the dying and the dead On the decks around were spread, And the blood was running redly From the scuppers to the sea. On that bloody deck he stood, While, with voices deep and rude, Thrice a hundred cannons thundered For the King; And our thirty cannon black Growled their terrible answer back, Till the souls from bodies sundered Of three hundred men took wing. All the while the battle through Waved our crescent flag of blue, Till the staff was cut asunder By a ball; And the foemen raised a cheer, Like the crow of chanticleer, Shrilly sounding through the thunder As they saw the color fall. On the ramparts Jasper stood, In his hands that banner good, ’Mid the balls that flew incessant O’er the brine; To a sponge-staff firmly tied Once again it floated wide, Flashing to the sun the crescent Of the Carolina line. Rang the stirring cheer on cheer For our hero void of fear, For our young and gallant sergeant Firm and bold; And we swore our bones should bleach On that barren, sandy beach, Ere that flag with crescent argent Should be wrested from our hold. So we fought till set of sun, When their vessels, one by one, Slackened fire, and, anchor weighing, Shaped a course; To Five Fathom Hole they fled With their dying and their dead, In their battered hulls displaying How our skill surpassed their force. Through the night we never slept— Ceaseless watch and ward we kept, With the port-fire steady burning At each gun; And the vessels of our foes We beheld when dawn arose— Eastwardly our glances turning— Lie between us and the sun.