The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 59

Who had the princ.i.p.al command of the english army at the attack upon Baltimore, in which he fell, while out with a reconnoitering party.

Give them the shadow of the cypress bough!

The chief who came our prowess to defy, Who came, to bind fresh laurels on his brow, Who came, too sure to conquer not to die:-- Low lies the chief upon th' unconscious plain, The laurels wither, and no wreathes remain.

To kindle up your torch, ambition's flame Heroic chief, had all its flames supplied; A monarch's smiles, a never-dying name, The historian's subject, and the soldier's pride; Your native land with splendid trophies hung; Joy sparkling in the eye, and praise from every tongue.

Deceived how much! a name alone remains, Not yet complete in fame, nor ripe in years;-- What is the applause such thirst of glory gains, Which not the grave regards or valor hears: In war's wild tumult, for a name he died, He fell, the victim of a monarch's pride.

A country's rights, or freedom to defend May sooth the anguish of a dying hour, A ravaged land to succor or befriend, To brave the efforts of a tyrant's power: These may console, when mad ambition's train Fade from the view, or sooth the soul in vain.

[208] General Robert Ross, who with Sir George c.o.c.kburn had burned Was.h.i.+ngton, was killed at North Point, Md., Sept. 12, 1814.

ON THE NAVAL ATTACK NEAR BALTIMORE[209]

September 14, 1814

The sons of old ocean advanced from the bay To achieve an exploit of renown; And Cochrane and c.o.c.kburn commanded, that day, And meant to exhibit a tragical play, Call'd, The plunder and burning of Baltimore town.

The scenes to be acted were not very new, And when they approach'd, with their rat-tat-too, As merry as times would allow, We ran up the colors to liberty true, And gave them a shot, with a tow-row-dow.

By land and by water how many have fail'd In attacking an enemy's town, But britons they tell us, have always prevail'd Wherever they march'd, or wherever they sail'd, To honor his majesty's sceptre and crown:

Wherever they went, with the trumpet and drum, And the dregs of the world, and the dirt, and the sc.u.m, As soon as the music begun, The colors were struck, and surrender'd the town When the summons was given of down, down, down!

But fortune, so fickle, is turning her tide, And safe is old Baltimore town, Though c.o.c.kburn and Cochrane, with Ross at their side, The sons of Columbia despised and defy'd, And determined to batter it down; Rebuff'd and repulsed in disgrace they withdrew, With their down, down, down, and their rat-tat-too, As well as the times would allow: And the sight, we expect, will be not very new When they meet us again, with our tow-row-dow.

[209] After the burning of Was.h.i.+ngton the British fleet and army concentrated upon Baltimore. Here they met a stubborn resistance and were at length beaten off. It was during the bombardment of Fort McHenry near the city that Francis Scott Key composed the patriotic song "The Star Spangled Banner."

ON THE BRITISH BLOCKADE

And Expected Attack on New York, 1814

Old Neversink,[A] with bonnet blue, The present times may surely rue When told what England means to do:

[A] The highlands, a little southward of Sandy Hook; being a tract of bold high country, several thousand acres in extent; to the southward of which there is no land that may be termed mountainous, on the whole coast of the United States to Cape Florida. The real aboriginal name of this remarkable promontory was Navesink, since corrupted into Neversink.--_Freneau's note._

Where from the deep his head he rears The din of war salutes his ears, That teazed him not for thirty years.

He eastward looks toward the main To see a noisy naval train Invest his bay, our fleets detain.

What can be done in such a case?-- His rugged heights the blast must face, The storm that menaces the place.

With tents I see his mountain spread, The soldier to the summit led, And cannon planted on his head:

From Shrewsbury beach to Sandy Hook The country has a martial look, And quakers skulk in every nook.--

What shall be done in such a case?-- We ask again with woful face To save the trade and guard the place?

Where mounted guns the porte secure, The cannon at the embrasure, Will british fleets attempt to moor?

Perhaps they may--and make a dash, To fill their pockets with our cash-- Their dealings now are rather harsh.

They menace to a.s.sail the coast With such a fleet and such a host As may devour us--boil'd or roast.

Their feelings are alive and sore For what they got at Baltimore, When, with disgrace, they left the sh.o.r.e,

And will revenge it, if they can, On town and country, maid and man-- And all they fear is Fulton's plan;

Torpedoes planted in the deep, Whose blast may put them all to sleep, Or ghostify them at a sweep.

Another scheme, entirely new, Is hammering on his anvil too, That frightens christian, turk, and jew.

A frigate,[B] mounting thirty six!-- Who'er with her a quarrel picks Will little get but cuffs and kicks:

[B] The steam frigate _Fulton the First_: Qui me percellit morti debetur--who strikes at me to death is doomed!--_Freneau's note._

A frigate meant to sail by steam!-- How can she else but torture them, Be proof to all their fire and flame.

A feast she cooks for England's sons Of scalded heads and broken bones Discharged from iron hearted guns.

Black Sam[C] himself, before he died, Such _suppers_ never did provide;-- Such dinners roasted, boil'd, and fry'd.

[C] A character well known in New York several years since, remarkable for elegance and luxurious refinements in the art of cookery.--_idem._

To make a brief of all I said-- If to attack they change blockade Their G.o.ds.h.i.+ps will be well repaid

With water, scalding from the pot, With melted lead and flaming shot, With vollies of--I know not what,

The british lads will be so treated: Their wooden walls will be so heated, Their ruin will be soon completed.

Our citizens shall stare and wonder-- The Neversink repel their thunder And c.o.c.kburn miss a handsome plunder.

ROYAL CONSULTATIONS