THE FIGHT AT LEXINGTON
A BALLAD OF MASSACHUSETTS
Tugged the patient, panting horses, as the
coulter keen and thorough,
By the careful farmer guided, cut the deep
and even furrow;
Soon the mellow mould in ridges, straightly
pointing as an arrow,
Lay to wait the bitter vexing of the fierce,
remorseless harrow---
Lay impatient for the seeding, for the growing
and the reaping;
All the richer and the readier for the quiet
winter-sleeping.
At his loom the pallid weaver, with his feet
upon the treadles,
watched the threads alternate rising, with
the lifting of the heddles---
Not admiring that, so swiftly, at his cager
fingers' urging,
Flew the bobbin-loaded shuttle 'twixt the
filaments diverging---
Only labor dull and cheerless in the work
before him seeing,
As the warp and woof uniting brought the figures
into being.
Roared the fire before the bellows; glowed
the forge's dazzling crater;
rang the hammers on the anvil, both the lesser
and the greater;
Fell the sparks around the smithy, keeping
rhythm to the clamor,
To the ponderous blows and clanging of each
unrelenting hammer;
While the diamonds of labor, from the curse
of Adam borrowed,
Glittered like a crown of honor, on each iron-beater's
forehead.
Through the air there came a whisper, deepening
quickly into thunder,
How the deed was done that morning, that would
rend the realm asunder;
How at Lexington the Briton mingled causeless
crime with folly,
And a king endangered empire by ill-considered
volley.
Then each heart beat quick for vengeance,
as the anger-stirring story
Told of brethren and of neighbors lying corses
stiff and gory.
Stops the plow and sleeps the shuttle, stills
the blacksmith's noisy hammer,
Come the farmer, smith, and weaver, with a
wrath too deep for clamor;
But their fiercely-purposed doing every glance
they would give avouches,
As they handle rusty fire-locks, powder-horns,
and bullet-pouches;
As they hurry from the work-shops, from the
fields and from the forges,
Venting curses deep and bitter on the latest
of the Georges.
Matrons gather at the portals, some with children
round them grouping,
Some are filled with exultation, some are
sad of soul and drooping---
Gazing at our hasty levis as they march unskilled
but steady,
Or prepare their long-kept firelocks, for
the combat making ready---
Mingling smiles with tears, and praying for
our men and those who lead them,
That the gracious Lord of Battles to a triumph
sure may speed them.
I was but a beardless stripling on that chilly
April morning,
When the church-bells backward ringing, to
the minute-men gave warning;
But seized my father's weapons---he
was dead who one-time bore them---
And I swore to use them stoutly, or to nevermore
restore them;
Bade farewell to sister, mother, and to one
than either dearer,
Then departed as the firing told of red-coats
drawing nearer.
On the Britons came from Concord---'twas a
name of mocking omen;
Concord nevermore existed 'twixt our people
and the foemen---
On they came in haste from Concord where a
few had stood to fight them,
Where they failed to conquer Buttrick who
had stormed the bridge despite them;
On they came, the tools of tyrants, 'mid a
people who abhorred them;
They had done their master's bidding, and
we purposed to reward them.
We, at Meriam's Corner posted, heard the fifing
and the drumming
In the distance creeping onward, which prepared
us for their coming;
Soon we saw the lines of scarlet, their advance
to music timing,
When our captain quickly bade us pick our
flints and freshen priming.
There our little band of freemen, couched
in silent ambush lying,
Watched the forces, full eight hundred, as
they came with colors flying.
'Twas a goodly sight to see them; but we heeded
not its splendor,
For we felt their martial bearing hate within
our hearts engender,
Kindling fire within our spirits, though our
eyes a moment watered,
As we thought on Moore and Hadley, and their
brave companions slaughtered;
And we swore to deadly vengeance for the fallen
to devote them,
And our rage grew hotter, hotter, as our well-aimed
bullets smote them.
Then in overpowering numbers, charging bayonet,
came their flankers;
We were driven as the ships are, by a tempest,
from their anchors;
But we loaded while retreating, and regaining
other shelter,
Saw their proudest on the highway, in their
life's blood fall and welter,
Saw them fall or dead or wounded, at our fire
so quick and deadly,
While the dusty road was moistened with the
torrent raining redly.
From behind the mounds and fences poured the
bullets thickly, fastly;
From ravines and clumps of coppice leapt destruction
grim and ghastly;
All around our leaguers hurried, coming hither,
going hither,
Yet charged on by their forces, disappearing,
none knew whither;
Buzzed around the hornets ever, newer swarms
each moment springing,
Breaking, rising, and returning, yet continually
stinging.
When to Hardy's Hill their weary, waxing-fainter
footsteps brought them,
There again the stout Provincials brought
the wolves to bay and fought them;
And though often backward beaten still returned
the foe to follow,
Making forts of every hill-top and redoubts
of every hollow.
Hunters came from every farm-house, joining
eagerly to chase them---
They had boasted far too often that we ne-er
would dare to face them.
How they staggered, how they trembled, how
they panted at pursuing,
How they hurried broken columns that had marched
to their undoing;
How their stout commander, wounded, urged
along his frightened forces,
That had marked their fearful progress, by
their comrades' bloody corses;
How they rallied, how they faltered, how in
vain returned our firing,
While we hung upon their footsteps with a
zealousness untiring.
With nine hundred came Lord Percy, sent by
startled Gage to meet them,
And he scoffed at those who suffered such
a horde of boors to beat them;
But his scorn was changed to anger, when on
front and flank were falling,
From the fences, walls, and roadside, drifts
of leaden hail appalling;
And his picked and chosen soldiers, who had
never shrunk in battle,
Hurried quicker in their panic when they heard
the firelocks rattle.
Tell it not in Gath, Lord Percy, never Ascalon
let hear it,
That you fled from those you taunted as devoid
of force and spirit;
That the blacksmith, weaver, farmer, leaving
forging, weaving, tillage,
Fully paid with coin of bullets base marauders
for their pillage;
They, you said, would fly in terror, Britons
and their bayonets shunning;
But the loudest of the boasters proved the
foremost in the running.
Then round Prospect Hill they hurried, where
we followed and assailed them;
They had stout and tireless muscles, or their
limbs had surely failed them.
Stood abashed the bitter Tories, as the women
loudly wondered
That a crowd of scurvy rebels chased to hold
eleven hundred---
Chased to hold eleven hundred, grenadiers
both light and heavy,
Leading Percy, of the Border, on a chase surpassing
Chevy.
Into Boston marched their forces, musket-barrels
brightly gleaming,
Colors flying, sabres flashing, drums were
beating, fifes were screaming.
Not a word about their journey; from the General
to the drummer,
Did you ask about their doings, than a statue
each was dumber;
But the wounded in their litters, lying pallid,
weak, and gory,
With a language clear and certain, told the
sanguinary story.
'Twas a dark and bloody lesson; it was bloody
work to teach it;
But when sits on high Oppression, soaring
fire alone can reach it.
Though but raw and rude Provincials, we were
freemen, and contending
For the rights our fathers gave us, and a
country worth defending;
And when foul invaders threaten wrong to hearthstone
and to altar,
Shame were on the freeman's manhood should
he either fail or falter.
On the day the fight that followed, neighbor
met and talked with neighbor;
First the few who fell they buried, then returned
to daily labor.
Glowed the fire within the forges, ran the
plowshares down the furrow,
Clicked the bobbin-loaded shuttle---both our
fight and toil was through;
If we labored in the battle, or the shop,
or forge, or fallow,
Still there came an honest purpose, casting
round our deeds a halo.
Though they never strove again, these minions
of Germaine and North and Gower,
They could never make the weakest of our band
before them cower;
Neither England's bribes nor soldiers, force
of arms nor titles splendid,
Could deprive of what our fathers left as
rights to be defended;
And the flame from Concord spreading, kindled
kindred conflagrations,
Till the Colonies United took their place
among the nations.
THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH, APRIL 1860
FAMOUS
AMERICANS THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH
THOMAS
DUNN ENGLISH
THE FIGHT AT ORISKANY
AUGUST 5, 1777
On the fifth of August, in the morn,
I was plowing between the rows of corn,
When I heard Dirck Bergen blow his horn.
I let the reins in quiet drop;
I bade my horse in the furrow stop,
And the sweet green leaves unheeded crop.
Down at the fence I waited till
Dirck galloped down the sloping hill,
Blowing his conch-horn with a will.
"Ho, neighbor! stop!" to Dirck I cried,
"And tell me why so fast you ride---
"What is the news you scatter wide?"
He drew the rein, and told me then
How with his seventeen hundred men
St. Leger vexed the land again.
A fiendish crew around him stood---
The Tory base, the Hessian rude,
The painted prowler of the wood---
The savage Brant was in his train,
Before whose hatchet, quick to brain,
Fell patriot blood in scarlet rain---
How this force, to serve the crown,
And win in civil strife renown,
Before Fort Schuyler settled down.
Where Gansevoort close with Willett lay---
Their force too weak for open fray---
Bristling like hunted bucks at bay.
And Dirck, by Herkimer, the stout,
Was sent to noise the news about,
And summon all to arm and out.
Far must he spread the word that day,
So, bidding me come join the fray,
And blowing his horn, he rode away.
I have been married then a year;
My wife to me was doubly dear,
For a child had come our home to cheer.
I had not mingled in the strife
That swept the land;my aim in life
To tend my farm, and cheer my wife.
I watched my flocks and herds increase,
And plowed my land and held my peace:
Men called me the Tory, Abner Reece.
Yet now the country needed all
Her manly sons to break her thrall;
Could I be deaf to her piteous call?
I thought me of the cruel foe,
The red-skinned Mingo, skulking low,
The midnight raid, the secret blow---
Hessians and Brunswickers, the lees
Of Europe's cup of miseries,
And brutal Tories, worse than these---
Britons, with rude, relentless hand:
All these made up the cruel band
Which came to spoil and vex the land.
I felt my heart in anger leap---
"No!" cried my spirit from its deep,
"I will not here ignobly creep.
"I have a strong arm for the fray;
"I have a rifle sure to slay;
"I fear no man by night nor day.
"When prowling wolves have left their den,
"The hunter's craft is needed then---
"The country must not lack for men."
So from the corn-rows, green and tall,
I led my plow-horse to the stall,
Then took my rifle from the wall.
I slung my pouch and powder-horn,
I kissed my babe scarce three months born,
And bade my wife farewell that morn.
I journeyed steadily all that day---
Through brake and brier I made my way;
For stream or hill I did not stay.
At set of sun I made my camp,
Mid alder bushes thick and damp,
And at dawn resumed my tramp.
I reached the meeting-place at eight,
But, though no laggard, I came too late---
They had not thought for me to wait.
Oh, fatal haste, so soon to stir!
Yet not the fault of Herkimer,
Who knew his foe too well to err.
Rash, headstrong men and others led,
Who mocked at what the General said,
And heaped contumely on his head.
"You know not what you seek," he cried;
"Those are but fools who foes deride;
"And prudence dwells with courage tried.
"My messenger left at set of sun;
"When once his errand has been done,
"Will sound Fort Schuyler's signal-gun.
"Wait till that cannon's voice you hear,
"And then we'll fall upon their rear,
"As Gansevoort to their van draws near."
Said Colonel Paris then, "Not so!
"We left our homes to strike a blow;
"So lead us quickly to the foe.
"Else all may see those do not err
"Who brand you a coward cur
"And skulking Tory, Herkimer."
But Herkimer only smiled at first---
He knew those merely words at worst
That from hot-headed rashness burst.
"I have been placed your path to guide,
"And shall I lead you then," he cried,
"To the jaws of ruin gaping wide?"
But Cox replied, "This talk is vain;
"If Herkimer fears he may be slain,
"Let him in safety here remain."
Flashed Herkimer's eyes with fire at this,
And sank his voice to an angry hiss--
"Such shafts," he cried, "my honor miss.
"March on! but if I judge aright,
"You'll find when comes our foe in sight,
"The loudest boaster first in flight."
And so they were marching through a glen
Not far from the mouth of Oriskany, when
I overtook their hindmost men.
I saw Dirck Bergen's honest face
Among the rest; he had reached the place
An hour before me in the race.
He wrung my hand and told me all---
"Look out," he said, "for a rain of ball,
"And the thickest shower that well can fall.
"For Brant is watching round about,
"And long ere this by many a scout
"He knows his foes are armed and out.
"We'll have it heavily, by-and-by;
"But that's no matter---one can but die---
"And safer it is to fight than fly."
I laughed a little my fear to hide;
But I felt my memory backward glide
To the home I left on the river-side.
I saw that cabin of logs once more,
The ceiling low and the sanded floor,
And my wife the cradle leaning o'er.
I saw her bending with girlish grace,
And I knew the mother was trying to trace
The father's look in the infant's face.
The house-dog pricked his watchful ear---
He heard some traveler passing near---
She listened my coming step to hear.
But soon dispersed that pleasant scene,
And I glanced with vision clear and keen
Through the close-set boughs of the forest
green.
A deep ravine was in our way,
Marshy and damp, and o'er it lay
A causeway formed of logs and clay.
The spot was pleasant---stilly down
Fell forest shadows cool and brown,
From branch and bough and lofty crown.
Fringing the fore-ground of the scene,
I saw the slender birches lean
Lovingly o'er the tussocks green.
The leaves were thickly set o'erhead,
The low-growth dense around was spread---
But suddenly filled my heart with dread.
A sight, a sound the soul to shock---
A dark face, peering past a rock,
The clicking of a rifle lock.
Forth from a jet of fiery red
Leapt to its mark the deadly lead---
Dirck Bergen fell beside me dead.
To life the sleeping echoes woke,
As from each rock and tree there broke
A flash of fire, a wreath of smoke.
Then rang around us yell on yell
As though the very fiends of hell
Had risen in that gloomy dell.
And though the foe we scarce could see,
Still from each bush and rock and tree
He poured his fire incessantly.
From a sheltering trunk I glanced around---
Dying and dead bestrewed the ground,
Though some by flight scant safety found.
Ay, flight! as Herkimer had said,
Appalled at blood-drops raining red,
The rear-guard all like dastards fled.
But Herkimer blenched not---clearer then
his accents rang throughout the glen,
Cheering the spirits of the men.
And though his horse was slain, and he
Was wounded sorely in the knee,
A cooler man there could not be.
He was not chafed nor stirred the least,
But, gay as a guest at a wedding-feast,
He bade them strip his dying beast.
A famous seat the saddle made
Beneath a beech-tree's spreading shade,
From whence the battle he surveyed.
All through the hottest of the fight
He sat there with his pipe alight,
And gave his orders left and right.
Whoever could gaze at him and flee,
The basest of poltroons would be---
The sight chased every fear from me.
None shrank the foe, though sore bested
Each from his tree the bullet sped,
And paid them back with dead for dead.
The battle-shout, the dying groan,
The hatchet's crash, the rifle's tone,
Mixed with the wounded's painful moan.
Full many a stout heart bounding light,
Full many a dark eye beaming bright,
Were still'd in death, and closed in night.
I was not idle through the fray;
But there was one alone that day
I had a fierce desire to slay.
I had seen the face and marked it well,
That peered from the rock when Bergen fell;
And I watched for that at every yell.
No hound on scent more rapt could be,
As I scanned the fight from behind the tree;
And five I slew, but neither was he.
At length I saw a warrior brain
A neighbor's son, young Andrew Lane,
And stop to scalp the fallen slain.
'Twas he! my brain to throb began,
My eager hands to the gun-stock ran,
And I dropped fresh priming in the pan.
His savage work was speedily through;
He raised and gave the scalp-halloo;
Sure aim I took, and the trigger drew.
Off to its mark the bullet sped;
Leapt from his breast a current red;
And the slayer of honest Dirck was dead.
Upon us closer now they came;
We formed in circles walled with flame,
Which way they moved our front the same.
Sore galled and thinned came Butler's men,
With a bayonet charge to clear the glen,
And gallantly we met them then.
Our wrath upon the curs to deal,
There, hand to hand and steel to steel,
We made their close-set column reel.
Fiercely we fought 'mid fire and smoke,
With rifle shot and hatchet stroke,
When over our heads the thunder broke.
And I have heard the oldest say
That ne-er before that bloody day
Such storm was known as stopped our fray.
'Twas one of the cloud-king's victories---
Down came the rain in gusty seas,
Driving us under the heaviest trees.
But short the respite that we got;
The rain and thunder lasted not,
And strife again grew fierce and hot.
At the foot of a bank I took my stand,
To pick out a man from a coming band,
When I felt on my throat a foeman's hand.
At the tightening grasp my eyes grew dim;
But I saw 'twas a Mingo, stout of limb,
And fierce was the struggle I made with him.
Deep peril hung upon my life;
My foot gave way in the fearful strife;
The wretch was o'er me with his knife.
In my hair his eager fingers played;
I felt the keen edge of his blade;
But I struggled the harder undismayed.
I had sunk before his deadly blow,
When suddenly o'er me fell my foe---
A friendly ball had laid him low.
The Mohawks wavered---Brant in vain
Would bring them to the charge again,
For the chiefest of their braves were slain.
We heard a firing far away
In the distance where Fort Schuyler lay---
'Twas Willett with Johnson making play.
Advancing them with friendly cries,
A band of patriots met our eyes---
The Tories of Johnson in disguise.
They came as though to aid our band,
With cheerful front and friendly hand---
An artful rick and ably planned.
We hailed their coming with a cheer,
But the keen eye of Gardinier
Saw through their mask as they drew near.
"They think," he cried, "by tricks like these,
"To lock our sense, and bear the keys---
"Look! those are Johnson's Refugees!"
A deadly purpose in us rose;
There might be quarter for our foes
Of Mingo breed, but none for those.
For cabins fired, and old men slain,
And outraged women pleading vain,
Cried vengeance on those sons of Cain.
A hurtling volley made to tell,
And then, with one wild, savage yell,
Resistless on their ranks we fell.
The Mohawks see their allies die;
Dismayed, they raise the warning cry
Of "Oonah!" then they break and fly.
A panic seized the startled foe;
They show no front, they strike no blow,
As through the forest in rout they go.
We could not follow---weak and worn
We stood upon the field that morn;
Never was triumph so forlorn.
For of our band who fought that day
One half or dead wounded lay,
When closed that fierce and fearful fray.
And in that field, ere daylight's close,
We buried our dead, but mourned not those
We laid to rest beside our foes.
Revenge, not grief our souls possest---
We heaped the earth upon each breast,
And left our brothers to their rest.
THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH, AUGUST 1861
FAMOUS
AMERICANS THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH
THOMAS
DUNN ENGLISH
SULLIVAN'S ISLAND
A BALLAD OF SOUTH CAROLINA
Stout Sir Henry Clinton spoke---
"It is time the power awoke
That upholds in these dominions
Royal right;
Set all sail and southward steer,
And, instead of idling here,
Crush these rebel Carolinians
Who have dared to beard our might."
Of his coming well we knew---
Far and wide the story flew,
And many tongues of rumor
Swelled his force;
But we scorned his gathering might,
And, relying on the right,
Bade the braggart let his humor
For a battle take its course.
Neither idle nor dismayed,
As we watched the coming shade
Of the murky cloud that hovered
On our coast;
From the country far and near,
In we called the volunteer,
Till the ground around was covered
With the trampling of our host.
In their homespun garb arrayed,
Sturdy farmers to our aid
Came, as to a bridal lightly
Come the guests;
Leaving crops and kine and lands,
Trusty weapons in their hands,
And the fire of courage brightly
Burning in their manly breasts.
From the hills the hunters came---
Having dealt with meaner game,
Much they longed to meet the lions
Of the isles;
And 'twas pleasant there to see
With what stately step and free,
Strode those restless-eyed Orions
Past our better-ordered files.
There were soldiers from the North,
Hailed as brothers by the swarth,
Keen, chivalric Carolinians
At their side---
Ah, may never discord's fires,
Sons of heart-united sires
Who together fought the minions
Of a tyrant-king, divide!
Came the owner of the soil,
The mechanic from his toil,
And the student from the college---
Equal each;
They had gathered there to show
To the proud and cruel foe,
Who had come to court the knowledge
What a people's wrath could teach.
Watching Clinton, day by day,
From his vessels in the bay,
On Long Island beach debarking
Grenadiers,
In the fort at Sullivan's isle,
With a grim and meaning smile,
Every scarlet soldier marking,
Stood our ready cannoniers.
Of palmetto logs and sand,
On a stretch of barren land,
Stands that rude but strong obstruction,
Keeping guard;
'Tis the shelter of the town---
They must take or break it down,
They must sweep it to destruction,
Or their farther path is barred.
'Twas but weak they thought to shield;
They were sure it soon would yield;
They had guns afloat before it,
Ten to one;
Yet long time their vessels lay
Idly rocking in the bay,
While the flag that floated o'er it
Spread its colors in the sun.
But at length toward the noon
Of the twenty-eighth of June,
We observed their force in motion
On the shore;
At the hour of half past nine,
Saw their frigates form in line,
Heard the krakens of the ocean
Open their mighty jaws and roar.
On the decks we saw them stand,
Lighted matches held in hand,
Brawny sailors, stripped and ready
For the word;
Crawling to the royal's head;
Saw the signal rise and spread;
And the order to be steady
To the waiting crews we heard.
Then the iron balls and fire
From the lips of cannons dire,
In a blazing torrent pouring,
Roaring came;
And each dun and rolling cloud
That arose the ships to shroud,
Seemed a mist continual soaring
From some cataract of flame.
Moultrie eyed the Bristol then---
She was foremost of the ten,
And these words---his eyes upon her---
Left his lips---
"Let them not esteem you boors;
Show that gentle blood of yours;
Pay the Admiral due honor,
And the line-of-battle-ships."
Back our balls in answer flew,
Piercing plank and timbers through,
Till the foe began to wonder
At our might;
While we laughed to hear the roar
Flung by Echo from the shore;
While we shouted to the thunder
Grandly pealing through the fight.
From Long Island, Clinton came
To surmount the wall of flame
That was built by Thomson's rangers
On the east;
But he found a banquet spread,
Where, with open hand and rod,
dangers bade the hostile strangers
Bloody welcome to the feast.
Moved their boats with soldiers filled,
Rowed by seamen picked and skilled,
O'er the channel surging proudly
To attack;
Stern and silently they moved,
as became their courage proved,
Though the rangers' rifles loudly
Speaking peril, warned them back.
Long the barges headway held
By the sinewy arms impelled
Of the dauntless British seamen
Through the foam
Through the leaden death that came,
Borne upon the wings of flame,
From the rifled guns of freemen
Fighting fiercely for their home.
One by one the rowers dropped---
Then their onward course was stopped---
Death stood ready for the daring
At the oar;
Though in scorn they came at first,
When that storm upon them burst,
They returned with humbler bearing
To the safe and farther shore.
Then the bluff Sir Peter cried---
"Though they lower Clinton's pride,
And with front as stern as iron
Are arrayed,
There's a joint within their mail---
To their western front will sail
The Actaeon, Sphynx, and Siren,
And the fortress enfilade."
Oh, the Admiral was too free
With his gallant frigates three!
It were better he had kept them
As they were;
For the Middle Shoal they found,
Where they snugly lay aground,
While so bloodily we swept them
With our iron besoms there.
They were taught full soon aright,
That the bravest man in flight
May, when perils dire environ,
Safety find:
Soon, by aid of sail and sweep,
From the shoal unto the deep
They restored the Sphynx and Siren;
But the other staid behind.
Gnawed the Admiral his lip;
Yet the combat from his ship
Coolly, 'mid our fire so deadly,
Guided he,
Though the dying and the dead
On the decks around were spread,
And the blood was running redly
From the scuppers to the sea.
On that bloody deck he stood,
While with voices deep and rude,
Thrice a hundred cannon thundered
For the King;
And our thirty cannons back;
Till the souls from bodies sundered
Of three hundred men took wing.
All the while the battle through
Waved our crescent flag of blue,
Till staff was cut asunder
By a ball;
And the foemen raised a cheer
Like a crow of chanticleer,
Shrilly sounding through the thunder,
As they saw the colors fall.
On the ramparts Jasper stood,
In his hands that banner good,
'Mid the balls that flew incessant
O'er the brine;
To a sponge-staff firmly wide,
Once again it floated wide,
Flashing to the sun the crescent
Of the Carolina Line.
Rang the stirring cheer on cheer
For our hero void of fear,
For our young and gallant sergeant
Firm and bold;
And we swore our bones should bleach,
On that barren, sandy beach,
Ere that flag with crescent argent
Should be wrested from our hold.
So we fought till set of sun,
When their vessels, one by one,
Slackened fire, and anchor weighing
Shaped a course;
To Five Fathom Hole they fled,
With their dying and their dead,
In their battered hulls displaying
How our skill surpassed their force.
Through that night we never slept---
Ceaseless watch and ward we kept,
With the port-fire steady burning
At each gun;
And the vessels of our foes
We beheld when dawn arose---
Eastwardly our glances turning---
Lie between us and the sun.
Yet not all escaped that day---
The Actaeon frigate lay
At the shoal whereon she grounded
Hours before;
And her vexed and angry crew,
As our shot at her we threw,
And her sides of oak we pounded,
Dropped the guns and took the oar.
We behold them, from the deck
Of her rent and battered wreck,
Like the rats from garner burning,
Fastly flee;
Ah, no more before the gale
Will that gallant vessel sail;
Nevermore, the billows spurning,
Wave her white wings o'er the sea!
Ere they fled, with spiteful ire,
They devoted her to fire,
With her red-cross ensign proudly
Floating free;
But we boarded with a crew,
Down the flying colors drew,
While our cheers rang long and loudly
To the fortress from the sea.
Then her small-arms all we took,
And her bell and signal-book;
Fired her cannon thrice in honor
Of the day;
Bore her colors ensign down,
In defiance of the crown;
And to heap more scorn upon her,
Jeering, trailed them o'er the bay.
Then we fired her as before,
And exulting, from the shore
Saw the flaming serpents creeping
Up the shrouds;
Saw them dance upon the deck,
Saw them lick and gnaw the wreck,
saw them to the mast-heads leaping,
Through the rolling, smoking clouds.
Then, while gleamed the sparks like stars,
Snapped and fell the blazing spars,
While the fire was moaning dirges,
Came a roar;
Upward sprang a pillared flame,
And to fragments rent her frame,
With a shock that drove the surges,
White with terror, to the shore.
Time since then has traveled on;
Moultrie, Thomson, Jasper, gone!
Few survive who shared the glory
Of the scene;
But their names in light shall blaze
To the very latter days;
And our sons, in song and story,
Keep their memory ever green.
THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH, JUNE 1860
FAMOUS
AMERICANS THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH
THOMAS
DUNN ENGLISH
