The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 52

Who shall repulse the hireling host, Who force them back through snow and frost, Who swell the lake with thousands lost, Dear freedom? say!--

Who but the sons of freedom's land, Prepared to meet the b.l.o.o.d.y band; Resolved to make a gallant stand Where lightnings play.

Their squadrons, arm'd with gun and sword, Their legions, led by knight and lord Have sworn to see the reign restored Of George, the goth;

Whose mandate, from a vandal sh.o.r.e, Impels the sail, directs the oar, And, to extend the flames of war, Employs them both.

THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE

September 10, 1813

"To clear the lake of Perry's fleet And make his flag his winding sheet This is my object--I repeat--"

--Said Barclay, flush'd with native pride, To some who serve the british crown:-- But they, who dwell beyond the moon, Heard this bold menace with a frown, Nor the rash sentence ratified.

Ambition so bewitch'd his mind, And royal smiles had so combined With skill, to act the part a.s.sign'd He for no contest cared, a straw; The ocean was too narrow far To be the seat of naval war; He wanted lakes, and room to spare, And all to yield to Britain's law.

And thus he made a sad mistake; Forsooth he must possess the lake, As merely made for England's sake To play her pranks and rule the roast; Where she might govern, uncontrol'd, An unmolested empire hold, And keep a fleet to fish up gold, To pay the troops of George Provost.

The s.h.i.+ps approach'd, of either side, And Erie, on his bosom wide Beheld two hostile navies ride, Each for the combat well prepared: The lake was smooth, the sky was clear, The martial drum had banish'd fear, And death and danger hover'd near, Though both were held in disregard.

From lofty heights their colors flew, And Britain's standard all in view, With frantic valor fired the crew That mann'd the guns of queen Charlotte.

"And we must Perry's squadron take, And England shall command the lake;-- And you must fight for Britain's sake, (Said Barclay) sailors, will you not?"

a.s.sent they gave with heart and hand; For never yet a braver band To fight a s.h.i.+p, forsook the land, Than Barclay had on board that day;-- The guns were loosed the game to win, Their muzzles gaped a dismal grin, And out they pulled their tompion pin, The b.l.o.o.d.y game of war to play.

But Perry soon, with flowing sail, Advanced, determined to prevail, When from his bull-dogs flew the hail Directed full at queen Charlotte.

His wadded guns were aim'd so true, And such a weight of ball they threw, As, Barclay said, he never knew To come, before, so scalding hot!

But still, to animate his men From gun to gun the warrior ran And blazed away and blazed again-- Till Perry's s.h.i.+p was half a wreck: They tore away both tack and sheet,-- Their victory might have been complete, Had Perry not, to shun defeat In lucky moment left his deck.

Repairing to another post, From another s.h.i.+p he fought their host And soon regain'd the fortune lost, And down, his flag the briton tore: With loss of arm and loss of blood Indignant, on his decks he stood To witness Erie's crimson flood For miles around him, stain'd with gore!

Thus, for dominion of the lake These captains did each other rake, And many a widow did they make;-- Whose is the fault, or who to blame?-- The briton challenged with his sword, The yankee took him at his word, With spirit laid him close on board-- They're ours--he said--and closed the game.

ON THE CAPTURE

OF THE UNITED STATES FRIGATE ESs.e.x,

Of thirty-two guns, David Porter, esq. commander, in the neutral port of Valparisso, on the coast of Chili, in South America, January, 1814, by the british frigate Phoebe, capt. Hillyer, of forty-nine guns, and the Cherub of thirty-two guns.

"All the devils were there, and h.e.l.l was empty!"

From cruising near the southern pole Where wild antarctic oceans roll, With a gallant crew, a manly soul, Heroic Porter came.

Then, weathering round the stormy cape, And facing death in every shape, Which Anson[A] hardly could escape, (So says the page of fame.)

[A] See Lord Anson's voyage round the world between 1740 and 1744, by his chaplain, the rev. Richard Walter. The terrors and dangers of a winter pa.s.sage round Cape Horn into the Western Ocean, are depicted in that work by a masterly hand, who was witness to the scene.--_Freneau's note._

He made the high chilesian coast, The Andes, half in vapor lost, The Andes, topp'd with snow and frost, Eternal winter's reign!

Then, to the rugged western gale, He spread the broad columbian sail; And, Valparisso, thy fair vale Received him, with his men.

There, safely moor'd, his colors fly, Columbia's standard waved on high; The neutral port, his friends, were nigh; So gallant Porter thought; Nor deem'd a foe would heave in sight Regardless of all neutral right; And yet, that foe he soon must fight, And fight them as he ought.

His Ess.e.x claim'd his fondest care, With her he every storm could dare, With her, to meet the blast of war, His soul was still in trim: In her he cruised the northern main, In her he pa.s.s'd the burning line, In her he all things could attain, If all would act like him.

At length, two hostile s.h.i.+ps appear, And for the port they boldly steer-- The Phoebe first, and in her rear The Cherub, all secure.

They loom'd as gay as for a dance, Or ladies painted in romance-- Do, mind how boldly they advance.

Who can their fire endure?

The Phoebe mounted forty-nine-- All thought her on some grand design-- Does she alone the fight decline?

Say, Captain Hillyer, say?

The Cherub's guns were thirty-two-- And, Ess.e.x! full a match for you-- Yet to her bold companion true, She hugg'd her close, that day.

Ye powers, that rule the southern pole!

Are these the men of English soul?

Do these, indeed, the waves control?

Are these the ocean's lords?

Though challenged singly to the fight (As Porter, Hillyer, did invite) These men of s.p.u.n.k, these men of might, Refused to measure swords!

What, fight alone! bold Hillyer said-- I will not fight without my Aid-- The Cherub is for war array'd, And she must do her share!

Now Porter saw their dastard plan-- To fight them both was surely vain; We should have thought a man insane That would so madly dare.

Then, hands on deck! the anchors weigh!

--And for the sea he left the bay, A running fight to have that day, And thus escape his foes.

But oh!--distressing to relate-- As round a point of land he beat A squall from h.e.l.l the s.h.i.+p beset, And her maintopmast goes!

Unable to attain that end, He turns toward the neutral friend, And hoped protection they might lend, But no protection found.

In this distress, the foe advanced-- With such an eye at Ess.e.x glanced!

And such a fire of death commenced As dealt destruction round!

With every shot they raked the deck, Till mingled ruin seized the wreck: No valor could the ardor check Of England's martial tars!

One hundred men the Ess.e.x lost: But Phoebe found, and to her cost, That Porter made them many a ghost To serve in Satan's wars.

Oh, clouded scene!--yet must I tell Columbia's flag, indignant, fell-- To Ess.e.x, now, we bid farewell; She wears the english flag!

But Yankees she has none on board To point the gun or wield the sword; And though commanded by a lord They'll have no cause to brag.

THE TERRIFIC TORPEDOES[201]

OR SIR THOMAS HARDY'S SOLILOQUY.