large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_30_melville_64kb_13
large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_30_melville_64kb
English
7841
But he shall warm   Warm with the solemn metal there, And all its ordered fury share, In attitude a gladiatorial form. BUT HE SHALL WARM WARM WITH THE SOLEMN METAL THERE AND ALL ITS ORDERED FURY SHARE IN ATTITUDE A GLADATORIAL FORM
 seraph was he), For Michael has fled from his tower To the Angel over the sea. Who weeps for the woeful City Let him weep for our guilty kind; Who joys at her wild despairing-- Christ, the Forgiver, convert his mind. The Battle for the Bay. (August, 1864.) O mystery of noble hearts, To whom mysterious seas have been In midnight watches, lonely calm and storm, A stern, sad disciple, And rooted out the false and vain, And chastened them to aptness for Devotion and the deeds of war, And death which smiles and cheers in spite of pain. Beyond the bar the land-wind dies, The prows becharmed at anchor swim: A summer night; the stars withdrawn look down-- Fair eve of battle grim. The sentries pace, bonetas glide; Below, the sleeping sailor swing, And if their dreams to quarters spring, Or cheer their flag, or breast a stormy tide. But drums are beat: _Up anchor all!_ The triple lines steam slowly on; Day breaks, and through the sweep of decks each man Stands coldly by his gun-- As cold as it.  THE BATTLE FOR THE BAY BY HERMAN MELVILLE READ FOR LIEBRAVOCK STOT ORG BY SAWSHA KOHAN AT CLARK UNIVERSITY RECORDED NOVEMBER OF TWO THOUSAND TWELVE WORD PRESS DOT CLARK EWE DOT E D U SLASH M E N E U M A N SLASH LIEBRAVOX OH MYSTERY OF NOBLE HEARTS TO WHOM MYSTERIOUS SEAS HAVE BEEN IN MIDNIGHT WATCHES LONELY CALM AND STORM A STERN SAD DISCIPLE AND ROOTED OUT THE FALSE AND VAIN AND CHASTENED THEM TO APTNESS FOR DEVOTION AND THE DEEDS OF WAR AND DEATH WHICH SMILES AND CHEERS IN SPITE OF PAIN BEYOND THE BAR THE LAND WIND DIES THE PROWS BE CHARMED AT ANCHOR SWIMIM A SUMMER NIGHT THE STARS WITHDRAWN LOOK DOWN FAIR EVE ON BATTLE GRIM THE SENTRY'S PACE BONITAS GLIDE BELOW THE SLEEPING SAILORS SWING AND IT THEIR DREAMS TO QUARTER SPRING OR CHEER THEIR FLAG OR BREAST A STORMY TIDE BUT DRUMS ARE BEAT UP ANCHOR ALL THE TRIPLE LINES STEAM SLOWLY ON DAY BREAKS AND THROUGH THE SWEEP OF DECKS EACH MAN STANDS COLDLY BY HIS GUN AS COLD AS IT
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