VII.

Out spoke an eager gun, From the walls of Moultrie then; And through clouds of sulph'rous dun, Rose a shout of thousand men, As the shot, hissing hot, Goes in lightning to the spot-- Goes crashing wild through timber and through mail; Then roared the storm from all, Moultrie's ports and Sumter's wall-- Bursting bomb and driving ball-- Hell in hail!