Fort San Marco
Hoary San Marco, thy grim bastions haunt
My dream. Moat, ruined demilune and drawbridge, all,
Thy place-of-arms and sally-port, recall
Romance of war, herald and trumpet, vaunt
Of leaguered stronghold, insolent taunt
Flung back!—In shadow of thy seaward wall
Squats the black furnace which with cannon-ball
Shotted the mortar, thundered thence to daunt
Bombarding decks, boom answering to boom!
Proud Osceola, scorning captive moans,
Broke thy barred prison.—Tell me, did the doom
Whereof tradition whispers, give to groans
Of torture one in that deep dungeon tomb
Where the old sergeant found the moldering bones?
My dream. Moat, ruined demilune and drawbridge, all,
Thy place-of-arms and sally-port, recall
Romance of war, herald and trumpet, vaunt
Of leaguered stronghold, insolent taunt
Flung back!—In shadow of thy seaward wall
Squats the black furnace which with cannon-ball
Shotted the mortar, thundered thence to daunt
Bombarding decks, boom answering to boom!
Proud Osceola, scorning captive moans,
Broke thy barred prison.—Tell me, did the doom
Whereof tradition whispers, give to groans
Of torture one in that deep dungeon tomb
Where the old sergeant found the moldering bones?
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