Dewey at Manila. 'TWAS the very verge of May When the bold Olympia led Into Bocagrande Bay Dewey's squadron, dark and dread,— Creeping past Corregidor, Guardian of Manila's shore. Do they sleep who wait the fray? All too late her screaming shell Tears the silence with its track; This is but the gate to hell, We've no leisure to turn back. Answer, Concord! — then once more Slumber on, Corregidor. And as, like a slowing tide, Onward still the vessels creep, Dewey, watching, falcon-eyed, DEWEY AT MANILA. Orders, - "Let the gunners sleep; For we meet a foe at four Well they slept, for well they knew Thus upon the foe to fall. May is dancing into light As the Spanish admiral Wakens at his sentry's call. Shall he leave Cavite's lee, Hunt the Yankee fleet at sea? O Montojo, to thy deck, That to-day shall float its last! Quick! To quarters! Yonder speck Grows a hull of portent vast. Hither, toward Cavite's lee Comes the Yankee hunting thee! Not for fear of hidden mine Halts our quiet commodore. He, of old heroic line, Follows Farragut once more, Hazards all on victory, Here within Cavite's lee. If he loses, all is gone; He will win because he must. And the shafts of yonder dawn Are not quicker than his thrust. Soon, Montojo, he shall be With thee in Cavite's lee. Now, Manila, to the fray! Show the hated Yankee host This is not a holiday, Spanish blood is more than boast. Fleet and mine and battery, Crush him in Cavite's lee! Lo, hell's geysers at our fore Pierce the plotted path, in vain, Nerving every man the more With the memory of the Maine! Now at last our guns are free Here within Cavite's lee. "Gridley," says the commodore, "You may fire when ready." Then Long and loud, like lions' roar |