{"id":"01KG8AK22DZNA9514SW9Y5HK22","cid":"bafkreidke5omrpryixsxvza4xfwhob5xcvtwfrkrtpcp3wcwl7mql3j2kq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2590,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:50.352Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J19Y3FNVN5KWASY78BP4","start_line":2450,"text":"Weeks passed; and at my window, leaving bed,\r\n    By night I mused, of easeful sleep bereft,\r\n    On those ‘brave boys (Ah War! thy theft);\r\n        Some marching feet\r\nFound pause at last by cliffs Potomac cleft;\r\n    Wakeful I mused, while in the street\r\nFar footfalls died away till none were left.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STONE FLEET\r\n\r\n\r\n_An Old Sailor’s Lament_\r\nDecember, 1861\r\n\r\n\r\nI have a feeling for those ships,\r\n    Each worn and ancient one,\r\nWith great bluff bows, and broad in the beam:\r\n    Ay, it was unkindly done.\r\n        But so they serve the Obsolete—\r\n        Even so, Stone Fleet!\r\n\r\nYou’ll say I’m doting; do you think\r\n    I scudded round the Horn in one—\r\nThe _Tenedos,_ a glorious\r\n    Good old craft as ever run—\r\n        Sunk (how all unmeet!)\r\n        With the Old Stone Fleet.\r\n\r\nAn India ship of fame was she,\r\n    Spices and shawls and fans she bore;\r\nA whaler when the wrinkles came—\r\n    Turned off! till, spent and poor,\r\n        Her bones were sold (escheat)!\r\n        Ah! Stone Fleet.\r\n\r\nFour were erst patrician keels\r\n    (Names attest what families be),\r\nThe _Kensington,_ and _Richmond_ too,\r\n    _Leonidas,_ and _Lee_:\r\n        But now they have their seat\r\n        With the Old Stone Fleet.\r\n\r\nTo scuttle them—a pirate deed—\r\n    Sack them, and dismast;\r\nThey sunk so slow, they died so hard,\r\n    But gurgling dropped at last.\r\n        Their ghosts in gales repeat\r\n        _Woe’s us, Stone Fleet!_\r\n\r\nAnd all for naught. The waters pass—\r\n    Currents will have their way;\r\nNature is nobody’s ally; ’tis well;\r\n    The harbor is bettered—will stay.\r\n        A failure, and complete,\r\n        Was your Old Stone Fleet.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE TEMERAIRE\r\n\r\n\r\n_Supposed to have been suggested to an Englishman of the old order by\r\nthe fight of the Monitor and Merrimac_\r\n\r\n\r\nThe gloomy hulls in armor grim,\r\n    Like clouds o’er moors have met,\r\nAnd prove that oak, and iron, and man\r\n    Are tough in fibre yet.\r\n\r\nBut Splendors wane. The sea-fight yields\r\n    No front of old display;\r\nThe garniture, emblazonment,\r\n    And heraldry all decay.\r\n\r\nTowering afar in parting light,\r\n    The fleets like Albion’s forelands shine—\r\nThe full-sailed fleets, the shrouded show\r\n    Of Ships-of-the-Line.\r\n\r\n    The fighting _Temeraire,_\r\n        Built of a thousand trees,\r\n    Lunging out her lightnings,\r\n        And beetling o’er the seas—\r\n    O Ship, how brave and fair,\r\n        That fought so oft and well,\r\n\r\nOn open decks you manned the gun Armorial.\r\nWhat cheerings did you share,\r\n    Impulsive in the van,\r\nWhen down upon leagued France and Spain\r\n    We English ran—\r\nThe freshet at your bowsprit\r\n    Like the foam upon the can.\r\nBickering, your colors\r\n    Licked up the Spanish air,\r\nYou flapped with flames of battle-flags—\r\n    Your challenge, _Temeraire!_\r\nThe rear ones of our fleet\r\n    They yearned to share your place,\r\nStill vying with the Victory\r\nThroughout that earnest race—\r\nThe Victory, whose Admiral,\r\n    With orders nobly won,\r\nShone in the globe of the battle glow—\r\n    The angel in that sun.\r\nParallel in story,\r\n    Lo, the stately pair,\r\nAs late in grapple ranging,\r\n    The foe between them there—\r\nWhen four great hulls lay tiered,\r\nAnd the fiery tempest cleared,\r\nAnd your prizes twain appeared, _Temeraire!_\r\n\r\nBut Trafalgar is over now,\r\n    The quarter-deck undone;\r\nThe carved and castled navies fire\r\n    Their evening-gun.\r\nO, Titan _Temeraire,_\r\n    Your stern-lights fade away;\r\nYour bulwarks to the years must yield,\r\n    And heart-of-oak decay.\r\nA pigmy steam-tug tows you,\r\n    Gigantic, to the shore—\r\nDismantled of your guns and spars,\r\n    And sweeping wings of war.\r\nThe rivets clinch the iron clads,\r\n    Men learn a deadlier lore;\r\nBut Fame has nailed your battle-flags—\r\n    Your ghost it sails before:\r\nO, the navies old and oaken,\r\n    O, the _Temeraire_ no more!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJJ0DPPYXBBTAHQ387QKQ","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19Y3FNVN5KWASY78BP4","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK228792QCCCEKAD64MG4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:51.885Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:47:54.023Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}