For him who sought his country's goodIn plains of war, mid scenes of blood;Who, in the dubious battle's fray,Spent the warm noon of life's bright day,That to a world he might secureRights that forever shall endure,Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name.For him, who, when the war was done,And victory sure, and freedom won,Left glory's theatre, the field,The olive branch of peace to wield;And proved, when at the helm of state,Though great in war, in peace as great;Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name!For him, whose worth, though unexpress'd,Lives cherish'd in each freeman's breast,Whose name, to patriot souls so dear,Time's latest children shall revere,Whose brave achievements praised shall be,While beats one breast for liberty;Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name!But why for him vain marbles raise?Can the cold sculpture speak his praise?Illustrious shade! we can proclaimOur gratitude, but not thy fame.Long as Columbia shall be free,She lives a monument of thee;And may she ever rise in fame,To honor thy immortal name!
For him who sought his country's goodIn plains of war, mid scenes of blood;Who, in the dubious battle's fray,Spent the warm noon of life's bright day,That to a world he might secureRights that forever shall endure,Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name.For him, who, when the war was done,And victory sure, and freedom won,Left glory's theatre, the field,The olive branch of peace to wield;And proved, when at the helm of state,Though great in war, in peace as great;Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name!For him, whose worth, though unexpress'd,Lives cherish'd in each freeman's breast,Whose name, to patriot souls so dear,Time's latest children shall revere,Whose brave achievements praised shall be,While beats one breast for liberty;Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name!But why for him vain marbles raise?Can the cold sculpture speak his praise?Illustrious shade! we can proclaimOur gratitude, but not thy fame.Long as Columbia shall be free,She lives a monument of thee;And may she ever rise in fame,To honor thy immortal name!
For him who sought his country's goodIn plains of war, mid scenes of blood;Who, in the dubious battle's fray,Spent the warm noon of life's bright day,That to a world he might secureRights that forever shall endure,Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name.
For him, who, when the war was done,And victory sure, and freedom won,Left glory's theatre, the field,The olive branch of peace to wield;And proved, when at the helm of state,Though great in war, in peace as great;Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name!
For him, whose worth, though unexpress'd,Lives cherish'd in each freeman's breast,Whose name, to patriot souls so dear,Time's latest children shall revere,Whose brave achievements praised shall be,While beats one breast for liberty;Rear the monument of fame!Deathless is the hero's name!
But why for him vain marbles raise?Can the cold sculpture speak his praise?Illustrious shade! we can proclaimOur gratitude, but not thy fame.Long as Columbia shall be free,She lives a monument of thee;And may she ever rise in fame,To honor thy immortal name!
Since 1785 it had been necessary to protect American commerce from the Barbary corsairs by paying tribute, but their demands grew so exorbitant that war was at last declared against Tripoli, and a squadron dispatched to the Mediterranean. One of this squadron was the Philadelphia, which ran aground and was captured by the pirates on October 31, 1803. The ship was towed into the harbor of Tripoli and anchored under the guns of the fortress. On the night of February 15, 1804, a party of seventy-five headed by Lieutenants Decatur and Lawrence and Midshipman Bainbridge, entered the harbor, boarded the Philadelphia, drove the Turkish crew overboard, set fire to the ship, and escaped without losing a man, having performed what Lord Nelson called "the most daring act of the age."
Since 1785 it had been necessary to protect American commerce from the Barbary corsairs by paying tribute, but their demands grew so exorbitant that war was at last declared against Tripoli, and a squadron dispatched to the Mediterranean. One of this squadron was the Philadelphia, which ran aground and was captured by the pirates on October 31, 1803. The ship was towed into the harbor of Tripoli and anchored under the guns of the fortress. On the night of February 15, 1804, a party of seventy-five headed by Lieutenants Decatur and Lawrence and Midshipman Bainbridge, entered the harbor, boarded the Philadelphia, drove the Turkish crew overboard, set fire to the ship, and escaped without losing a man, having performed what Lord Nelson called "the most daring act of the age."
HOW WE BURNED THE PHILADELPHIA
[February 15, 1804]
By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw sworeHe would scourge us from the seas;Yankees should trouble his soul no more—By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore,Then lighted his hookah, and took his ease,And troubled his soul no more.The moon was dim in the western sky,And a mist fell soft on the sea,As we slipped away from the Siren brigAnd headed for Tripoli.Behind us the hulk of the Siren lay,Before us the empty night;And when again we looked behindThe Siren was gone from our sight.Nothing behind us, and nothing before,Only the silence and rain,As the jaws of the sea took hold of our bowsAnd cast us up again.Through the rain and the silence we stole along,Cautious and stealthy and slow,For we knew the waters were full of thoseWho might challenge the Mastico.But nothing we saw till we saw the ghostOf the ship we had come to see,Her ghostly lights and her ghostly frameRolling uneasily.And as we looked, the mist drew upAnd the moon threw off her veil,And we saw the ship in the pale moonlight,Ghostly and drear and pale.Then spoke Decatur low and said:"To the bulwarks shadow all!But the six who wear the Tripoli dressShall answer the sentinel's call.""What ship is that?" cried the sentinel."No ship," was the answer free;"But only a Malta ketch in distressWanting to moor in your lee."We have lost our anchor, and wait for dayTo sail into Tripoli town,And the sea rolls fierce and high to-night,So cast a cable down."Then close to the frigate's side we came,Made fast to her unforbid—Six of us bold in the heathen dress,The rest of us lying hid.But one who saw us hiding there"Americano!" cried.Then straight we rose and made a rushPellmell up the frigate's side.Less than a hundred men were we,And the heathen were twenty score;But a Yankee sailor in those old daysLiked odds of one to four.And first we cleaned the quarter-deck,And then from stern to stemWe charged into our enemiesAnd quickly slaughtered them.All around was the dreadful soundOf corpses striking the sea,And the awful shrieks of dying menIn their last agony.The heathen fought like devils all,But one by one they fell,Swept from the deck by our cutlassesTo the water, and so to hell.Some we found in the black of the hold,Some to the fo'c's'le fled,But all in vain; we sought them outAnd left them lying dead;Till at last no soul but Christian soulsUpon that ship was found;The twenty score were dead, and we,The hundred, safe and sound.And, stumbling over the tangled dead,The deck a crimson tide,We fired the ship from keel to shroudsAnd tumbled over the side.Then out to sea we sailed once moreWith the world as light as day,And the flames revealed a hundred sailOf the heathen there in the bay.All suddenly the red light paled,And the rain rang out on the sea;Then—a dazzling flash, a deafening roar,Between us and Tripoli!Then, nothing behind us, and nothing before,Only the silence and rain;And the jaws of the sea took hold of our bowsAnd cast us up again.By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw sworeHe would scourge us from the seas;Yankees should trouble his soul no more—By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore,Then lighted his hookah and took his ease,And troubled his soul no more.Barrett Eastman.
By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw sworeHe would scourge us from the seas;Yankees should trouble his soul no more—By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore,Then lighted his hookah, and took his ease,And troubled his soul no more.The moon was dim in the western sky,And a mist fell soft on the sea,As we slipped away from the Siren brigAnd headed for Tripoli.Behind us the hulk of the Siren lay,Before us the empty night;And when again we looked behindThe Siren was gone from our sight.Nothing behind us, and nothing before,Only the silence and rain,As the jaws of the sea took hold of our bowsAnd cast us up again.Through the rain and the silence we stole along,Cautious and stealthy and slow,For we knew the waters were full of thoseWho might challenge the Mastico.But nothing we saw till we saw the ghostOf the ship we had come to see,Her ghostly lights and her ghostly frameRolling uneasily.And as we looked, the mist drew upAnd the moon threw off her veil,And we saw the ship in the pale moonlight,Ghostly and drear and pale.Then spoke Decatur low and said:"To the bulwarks shadow all!But the six who wear the Tripoli dressShall answer the sentinel's call.""What ship is that?" cried the sentinel."No ship," was the answer free;"But only a Malta ketch in distressWanting to moor in your lee."We have lost our anchor, and wait for dayTo sail into Tripoli town,And the sea rolls fierce and high to-night,So cast a cable down."Then close to the frigate's side we came,Made fast to her unforbid—Six of us bold in the heathen dress,The rest of us lying hid.But one who saw us hiding there"Americano!" cried.Then straight we rose and made a rushPellmell up the frigate's side.Less than a hundred men were we,And the heathen were twenty score;But a Yankee sailor in those old daysLiked odds of one to four.And first we cleaned the quarter-deck,And then from stern to stemWe charged into our enemiesAnd quickly slaughtered them.All around was the dreadful soundOf corpses striking the sea,And the awful shrieks of dying menIn their last agony.The heathen fought like devils all,But one by one they fell,Swept from the deck by our cutlassesTo the water, and so to hell.Some we found in the black of the hold,Some to the fo'c's'le fled,But all in vain; we sought them outAnd left them lying dead;Till at last no soul but Christian soulsUpon that ship was found;The twenty score were dead, and we,The hundred, safe and sound.And, stumbling over the tangled dead,The deck a crimson tide,We fired the ship from keel to shroudsAnd tumbled over the side.Then out to sea we sailed once moreWith the world as light as day,And the flames revealed a hundred sailOf the heathen there in the bay.All suddenly the red light paled,And the rain rang out on the sea;Then—a dazzling flash, a deafening roar,Between us and Tripoli!Then, nothing behind us, and nothing before,Only the silence and rain;And the jaws of the sea took hold of our bowsAnd cast us up again.By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw sworeHe would scourge us from the seas;Yankees should trouble his soul no more—By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore,Then lighted his hookah and took his ease,And troubled his soul no more.Barrett Eastman.
By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw sworeHe would scourge us from the seas;Yankees should trouble his soul no more—By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore,Then lighted his hookah, and took his ease,And troubled his soul no more.
The moon was dim in the western sky,And a mist fell soft on the sea,As we slipped away from the Siren brigAnd headed for Tripoli.
Behind us the hulk of the Siren lay,Before us the empty night;And when again we looked behindThe Siren was gone from our sight.
Nothing behind us, and nothing before,Only the silence and rain,As the jaws of the sea took hold of our bowsAnd cast us up again.
Through the rain and the silence we stole along,Cautious and stealthy and slow,For we knew the waters were full of thoseWho might challenge the Mastico.
But nothing we saw till we saw the ghostOf the ship we had come to see,Her ghostly lights and her ghostly frameRolling uneasily.
And as we looked, the mist drew upAnd the moon threw off her veil,And we saw the ship in the pale moonlight,Ghostly and drear and pale.
Then spoke Decatur low and said:"To the bulwarks shadow all!But the six who wear the Tripoli dressShall answer the sentinel's call."
"What ship is that?" cried the sentinel."No ship," was the answer free;"But only a Malta ketch in distressWanting to moor in your lee.
"We have lost our anchor, and wait for dayTo sail into Tripoli town,And the sea rolls fierce and high to-night,So cast a cable down."
Then close to the frigate's side we came,Made fast to her unforbid—Six of us bold in the heathen dress,The rest of us lying hid.
But one who saw us hiding there"Americano!" cried.Then straight we rose and made a rushPellmell up the frigate's side.
Less than a hundred men were we,And the heathen were twenty score;But a Yankee sailor in those old daysLiked odds of one to four.
And first we cleaned the quarter-deck,And then from stern to stemWe charged into our enemiesAnd quickly slaughtered them.
All around was the dreadful soundOf corpses striking the sea,And the awful shrieks of dying menIn their last agony.
The heathen fought like devils all,But one by one they fell,Swept from the deck by our cutlassesTo the water, and so to hell.
Some we found in the black of the hold,Some to the fo'c's'le fled,But all in vain; we sought them outAnd left them lying dead;
Till at last no soul but Christian soulsUpon that ship was found;The twenty score were dead, and we,The hundred, safe and sound.
And, stumbling over the tangled dead,The deck a crimson tide,We fired the ship from keel to shroudsAnd tumbled over the side.
Then out to sea we sailed once moreWith the world as light as day,And the flames revealed a hundred sailOf the heathen there in the bay.
All suddenly the red light paled,And the rain rang out on the sea;Then—a dazzling flash, a deafening roar,Between us and Tripoli!
Then, nothing behind us, and nothing before,Only the silence and rain;And the jaws of the sea took hold of our bowsAnd cast us up again.
By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw sworeHe would scourge us from the seas;Yankees should trouble his soul no more—By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore,Then lighted his hookah and took his ease,And troubled his soul no more.
Barrett Eastman.
Arrangements were made to bombard the port and a concerted attack was made August 3, 1804. Two gunboats were captured and three sunk, and the shore batteries badly damaged. Attack after attack followed, and the war was finally ended by Tripoli renouncing all claim to tribute and releasing all American prisoners. It was during the first assault that Reuben James saved Decatur's life.
Arrangements were made to bombard the port and a concerted attack was made August 3, 1804. Two gunboats were captured and three sunk, and the shore batteries badly damaged. Attack after attack followed, and the war was finally ended by Tripoli renouncing all claim to tribute and releasing all American prisoners. It was during the first assault that Reuben James saved Decatur's life.
REUBEN JAMES
[August 3, 1804]
Three ships of war had Preble when he left the Naples shore,And the knightly king of Naples lent him seven galleys more,And never since the Argo floated in the middle seaSuch noble men and valiant have sailed in companyAs the men who went with Preble to the siege of Tripoli.Stewart, Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur—how their names ring out like gold!—Lawrence, Porter, Trippe, Macdonough, and a score as true and bold;Every star that lights their banner tells the glory that they won;But one common sailor's glory is the splendor of the sun.Reuben James was first to follow when Decatur laid aboardOf the lofty Turkish galley and in battle broke his sword.Then the pirate captain smote him, till his blood was running fast,And they grappled and they struggled, and they fell beside the mast.Close behind him Reuben battled with a dozen, undismayed,Till a bullet broke his sword-arm, and he dropped the useless blade.Then a swinging Turkish sabre clove his left and brought him low,Like a gallant bark, dismasted, at the mercy of the foe.Little mercy knows the corsair: high his blade was raised to slay,When a richer prize allured him where Decatur struggling lay."Help!" the Turkish leader shouted, and his trusty comrade sprung,And his scimetar like lightning o'er the Yankee captain swung.Reuben James, disabled, armless, saw the sabre flashed on high,Saw Decatur shrink before it, heard the pirate's taunting cry,Saw, in half the time I tell it, how a sailor brave and trueStill might show a bloody pirate what a dying man can do.Quick he struggled, stumbling, sliding in the blood around his feet,As the Turk a moment waited to make vengeance doubly sweet.Swift the sabre fell, but swifter bent the sailor's head below,And upon his 'fenceless forehead Reuben James received the blow!So was saved our brave Decatur;so the common sailor died;So the love that moves the lowly lifts the great to fame and pride.Yet we grudge him not his honors, for whom love like this had birth—For God never ranks His sailors by the Register of earth!James Jeffrey Roche.
Three ships of war had Preble when he left the Naples shore,And the knightly king of Naples lent him seven galleys more,And never since the Argo floated in the middle seaSuch noble men and valiant have sailed in companyAs the men who went with Preble to the siege of Tripoli.Stewart, Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur—how their names ring out like gold!—Lawrence, Porter, Trippe, Macdonough, and a score as true and bold;Every star that lights their banner tells the glory that they won;But one common sailor's glory is the splendor of the sun.Reuben James was first to follow when Decatur laid aboardOf the lofty Turkish galley and in battle broke his sword.Then the pirate captain smote him, till his blood was running fast,And they grappled and they struggled, and they fell beside the mast.Close behind him Reuben battled with a dozen, undismayed,Till a bullet broke his sword-arm, and he dropped the useless blade.Then a swinging Turkish sabre clove his left and brought him low,Like a gallant bark, dismasted, at the mercy of the foe.Little mercy knows the corsair: high his blade was raised to slay,When a richer prize allured him where Decatur struggling lay."Help!" the Turkish leader shouted, and his trusty comrade sprung,And his scimetar like lightning o'er the Yankee captain swung.Reuben James, disabled, armless, saw the sabre flashed on high,Saw Decatur shrink before it, heard the pirate's taunting cry,Saw, in half the time I tell it, how a sailor brave and trueStill might show a bloody pirate what a dying man can do.Quick he struggled, stumbling, sliding in the blood around his feet,As the Turk a moment waited to make vengeance doubly sweet.Swift the sabre fell, but swifter bent the sailor's head below,And upon his 'fenceless forehead Reuben James received the blow!So was saved our brave Decatur;so the common sailor died;So the love that moves the lowly lifts the great to fame and pride.Yet we grudge him not his honors, for whom love like this had birth—For God never ranks His sailors by the Register of earth!James Jeffrey Roche.
Three ships of war had Preble when he left the Naples shore,And the knightly king of Naples lent him seven galleys more,And never since the Argo floated in the middle seaSuch noble men and valiant have sailed in companyAs the men who went with Preble to the siege of Tripoli.Stewart, Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur—how their names ring out like gold!—Lawrence, Porter, Trippe, Macdonough, and a score as true and bold;Every star that lights their banner tells the glory that they won;But one common sailor's glory is the splendor of the sun.
Reuben James was first to follow when Decatur laid aboardOf the lofty Turkish galley and in battle broke his sword.Then the pirate captain smote him, till his blood was running fast,And they grappled and they struggled, and they fell beside the mast.Close behind him Reuben battled with a dozen, undismayed,Till a bullet broke his sword-arm, and he dropped the useless blade.Then a swinging Turkish sabre clove his left and brought him low,Like a gallant bark, dismasted, at the mercy of the foe.Little mercy knows the corsair: high his blade was raised to slay,When a richer prize allured him where Decatur struggling lay."Help!" the Turkish leader shouted, and his trusty comrade sprung,And his scimetar like lightning o'er the Yankee captain swung.
Reuben James, disabled, armless, saw the sabre flashed on high,Saw Decatur shrink before it, heard the pirate's taunting cry,Saw, in half the time I tell it, how a sailor brave and trueStill might show a bloody pirate what a dying man can do.Quick he struggled, stumbling, sliding in the blood around his feet,As the Turk a moment waited to make vengeance doubly sweet.Swift the sabre fell, but swifter bent the sailor's head below,And upon his 'fenceless forehead Reuben James received the blow!
So was saved our brave Decatur;so the common sailor died;So the love that moves the lowly lifts the great to fame and pride.Yet we grudge him not his honors, for whom love like this had birth—For God never ranks His sailors by the Register of earth!
James Jeffrey Roche.
In the spring of 1808 the schooner Betsy, of Marblehead, commanded by "Skipper Ireson," sighted a wreck while passing Cape Cod on her way home from the West Indies. It was dark at the time, and the sea was running high, so that she was unable to render any assistance. Another vessel soon afterwards rescued the people on the wreck, and they reached shore in season for news of the occurrence to reach Marblehead before the Betsy's arrival. A crowd met the vessel at the wharf, and the sailors, when called to account, protested that Ireson would not let them go to the relief of the wrecked vessel. The mob thereupon seized the unfortunate skipper, and putting him into an old dory, started to drag him to Beverly, where they said he belonged, in order to show him to his own people.
In the spring of 1808 the schooner Betsy, of Marblehead, commanded by "Skipper Ireson," sighted a wreck while passing Cape Cod on her way home from the West Indies. It was dark at the time, and the sea was running high, so that she was unable to render any assistance. Another vessel soon afterwards rescued the people on the wreck, and they reached shore in season for news of the occurrence to reach Marblehead before the Betsy's arrival. A crowd met the vessel at the wharf, and the sailors, when called to account, protested that Ireson would not let them go to the relief of the wrecked vessel. The mob thereupon seized the unfortunate skipper, and putting him into an old dory, started to drag him to Beverly, where they said he belonged, in order to show him to his own people.
SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE
[1808]
Of all the rides since the birth of time,Told in story or sung in rhyme,—On Apuleius's Golden Ass,Or one-eyed Calender's horse of brass,Witch astride of a human back,Islam's prophet on Al-Borák,—The strangest ride that ever was spedWas Ireson's out from Marblehead!Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Body of turkey, head of fowl,Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl,Feathered and ruffled in every part,Skipper Ireson stood in the cart.Scores of women, old and young,Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue,Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane,Shouting and singing the shrill refrain:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips,Girls in bloom of cheek and lips,Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chaseBacchus round some antique vase,Brief of skirt, with ankles bare,Loose of kerchief and loose of hair,With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang,Over and over the Mænads sang:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"Small pity for him!—He sailed awayFrom a leaking ship in Chaleur Bay,—Sailed away from a sinking wreck,With his own town's-people on her deck!"Lay by! lay by!" they called to him.Back he answered, "Sink or swim!Brag of your catch of fish again!"And off he sailed through the fog and rain!Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Fathoms deep in dark ChaleurThat wreck shall lie forevermore.Mother and sister, wife and maid,Looked from the rocks of MarbleheadOver the moaning and rainy sea,—Looked for the coming that might not be!What did the winds and the sea-birds sayOf the cruel captain who sailed away?—Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Through the street, on either side,Up flew windows, doors swung wide;Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray,Treble lent the fish-horn's bray.Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound,Hulks of old sailors run aground,Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane,And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"Sweetly along the Salem roadBloom of orchard and lilac showed.Little the wicked skipper knewOf the fields so green and the sky so blue.Riding there in his sorry trim,Like an Indian idol glum and grim,Scarcely he seemed the sound to hearOf voices shouting, far and near:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!""Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,—"What to me is this noisy ride?What is the shame that clothes the skinTo the nameless horror that lives within?Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck,And hear a cry from a reeling deck!Hate me and curse me,—I only dreadThe hand of God and the face of the dead!"Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Then the wife of the skipper lost at seaSaid, "God has touched him! why should we!"Said an old wife mourning her only son,"Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!"So with soft relentings and rude excuse,Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose,And gave him a cloak to hide him in,And left him alone with his shame and sin.Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!John Greenleaf Whittier.
Of all the rides since the birth of time,Told in story or sung in rhyme,—On Apuleius's Golden Ass,Or one-eyed Calender's horse of brass,Witch astride of a human back,Islam's prophet on Al-Borák,—The strangest ride that ever was spedWas Ireson's out from Marblehead!Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Body of turkey, head of fowl,Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl,Feathered and ruffled in every part,Skipper Ireson stood in the cart.Scores of women, old and young,Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue,Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane,Shouting and singing the shrill refrain:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips,Girls in bloom of cheek and lips,Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chaseBacchus round some antique vase,Brief of skirt, with ankles bare,Loose of kerchief and loose of hair,With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang,Over and over the Mænads sang:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"Small pity for him!—He sailed awayFrom a leaking ship in Chaleur Bay,—Sailed away from a sinking wreck,With his own town's-people on her deck!"Lay by! lay by!" they called to him.Back he answered, "Sink or swim!Brag of your catch of fish again!"And off he sailed through the fog and rain!Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Fathoms deep in dark ChaleurThat wreck shall lie forevermore.Mother and sister, wife and maid,Looked from the rocks of MarbleheadOver the moaning and rainy sea,—Looked for the coming that might not be!What did the winds and the sea-birds sayOf the cruel captain who sailed away?—Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Through the street, on either side,Up flew windows, doors swung wide;Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray,Treble lent the fish-horn's bray.Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound,Hulks of old sailors run aground,Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane,And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"Sweetly along the Salem roadBloom of orchard and lilac showed.Little the wicked skipper knewOf the fields so green and the sky so blue.Riding there in his sorry trim,Like an Indian idol glum and grim,Scarcely he seemed the sound to hearOf voices shouting, far and near:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!""Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,—"What to me is this noisy ride?What is the shame that clothes the skinTo the nameless horror that lives within?Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck,And hear a cry from a reeling deck!Hate me and curse me,—I only dreadThe hand of God and the face of the dead!"Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!Then the wife of the skipper lost at seaSaid, "God has touched him! why should we!"Said an old wife mourning her only son,"Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!"So with soft relentings and rude excuse,Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose,And gave him a cloak to hide him in,And left him alone with his shame and sin.Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!John Greenleaf Whittier.
Of all the rides since the birth of time,Told in story or sung in rhyme,—On Apuleius's Golden Ass,Or one-eyed Calender's horse of brass,Witch astride of a human back,Islam's prophet on Al-Borák,—The strangest ride that ever was spedWas Ireson's out from Marblehead!Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!
Body of turkey, head of fowl,Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl,Feathered and ruffled in every part,Skipper Ireson stood in the cart.Scores of women, old and young,Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue,Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane,Shouting and singing the shrill refrain:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"
Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips,Girls in bloom of cheek and lips,Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chaseBacchus round some antique vase,Brief of skirt, with ankles bare,Loose of kerchief and loose of hair,With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang,Over and over the Mænads sang:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"
Small pity for him!—He sailed awayFrom a leaking ship in Chaleur Bay,—Sailed away from a sinking wreck,With his own town's-people on her deck!"Lay by! lay by!" they called to him.Back he answered, "Sink or swim!Brag of your catch of fish again!"And off he sailed through the fog and rain!Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!
Fathoms deep in dark ChaleurThat wreck shall lie forevermore.Mother and sister, wife and maid,Looked from the rocks of MarbleheadOver the moaning and rainy sea,—Looked for the coming that might not be!What did the winds and the sea-birds sayOf the cruel captain who sailed away?—Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!
Through the street, on either side,Up flew windows, doors swung wide;Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray,Treble lent the fish-horn's bray.Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound,Hulks of old sailors run aground,Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane,And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"
Sweetly along the Salem roadBloom of orchard and lilac showed.Little the wicked skipper knewOf the fields so green and the sky so blue.Riding there in his sorry trim,Like an Indian idol glum and grim,Scarcely he seemed the sound to hearOf voices shouting, far and near:"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrtBy the women o' Morble'ead!"
"Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,—"What to me is this noisy ride?What is the shame that clothes the skinTo the nameless horror that lives within?Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck,And hear a cry from a reeling deck!Hate me and curse me,—I only dreadThe hand of God and the face of the dead!"Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!
Then the wife of the skipper lost at seaSaid, "God has touched him! why should we!"Said an old wife mourning her only son,"Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!"So with soft relentings and rude excuse,Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose,And gave him a cloak to hide him in,And left him alone with his shame and sin.Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!
John Greenleaf Whittier.
Later investigation proved that Ireson was in no way responsible for the abandonment of the disabled ship, and that his crew had lied in order to save themselves.
Later investigation proved that Ireson was in no way responsible for the abandonment of the disabled ship, and that his crew had lied in order to save themselves.
A PLEA FOR FLOOD IRESON
[1808]
Old Flood Ireson! all too longHave jeer and gibe and ribald songDone thy memory cruel wrong.Old Flood Ireson, bending lowUnder the weight of years and woe,Crept to his refuge long ago.Old Flood Ireson sleeps in his grave;Howls of a mad mob, worse than the wave,Now no more in his ear shall rave!*****Gone is the pack and gone the prey,Yet old Flood Ireson's ghost to-dayIs hunted still down Time's highway.Old wife Fame, with a fish-horn's blareHooting and tooting the same old air,Drags him along the old thoroughfare.Mocked evermore with the old refrain,Skilfully wrought to a tuneful strain,Jingling and jolting he comes againOver that road of old renown,Fair broad avenue, leading downThrough South Fields to Salem town,Scourged and stung by the Muses' thong,Mounted high on the car of song,Sight that cries, O Lord! how longShall heaven look on and not take partWith the poor old man and his fluttering heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart?Old Flood Ireson, now when FameWipes away with tears of shameStains from many an injured name,Shall not, in the tuneful line,Beams of truth and mercy shineThrough the clouds that darken thine?Take henceforth, perturbèd sprite,From the fever and the fright,Take the rest,—thy well-earned right.Along the track of that hard rideThe form of Penitence oft shall glide,With tender Pity by her side;And their tears, that mingling fallOn the dark record they recall,Shall cleanse the stain and expiate all.Charles Timothy Brooks.
Old Flood Ireson! all too longHave jeer and gibe and ribald songDone thy memory cruel wrong.Old Flood Ireson, bending lowUnder the weight of years and woe,Crept to his refuge long ago.Old Flood Ireson sleeps in his grave;Howls of a mad mob, worse than the wave,Now no more in his ear shall rave!*****Gone is the pack and gone the prey,Yet old Flood Ireson's ghost to-dayIs hunted still down Time's highway.Old wife Fame, with a fish-horn's blareHooting and tooting the same old air,Drags him along the old thoroughfare.Mocked evermore with the old refrain,Skilfully wrought to a tuneful strain,Jingling and jolting he comes againOver that road of old renown,Fair broad avenue, leading downThrough South Fields to Salem town,Scourged and stung by the Muses' thong,Mounted high on the car of song,Sight that cries, O Lord! how longShall heaven look on and not take partWith the poor old man and his fluttering heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart?Old Flood Ireson, now when FameWipes away with tears of shameStains from many an injured name,Shall not, in the tuneful line,Beams of truth and mercy shineThrough the clouds that darken thine?Take henceforth, perturbèd sprite,From the fever and the fright,Take the rest,—thy well-earned right.Along the track of that hard rideThe form of Penitence oft shall glide,With tender Pity by her side;And their tears, that mingling fallOn the dark record they recall,Shall cleanse the stain and expiate all.Charles Timothy Brooks.
Old Flood Ireson! all too longHave jeer and gibe and ribald songDone thy memory cruel wrong.
Old Flood Ireson, bending lowUnder the weight of years and woe,Crept to his refuge long ago.
Old Flood Ireson sleeps in his grave;Howls of a mad mob, worse than the wave,Now no more in his ear shall rave!
*****
Gone is the pack and gone the prey,Yet old Flood Ireson's ghost to-dayIs hunted still down Time's highway.
Old wife Fame, with a fish-horn's blareHooting and tooting the same old air,Drags him along the old thoroughfare.
Mocked evermore with the old refrain,Skilfully wrought to a tuneful strain,Jingling and jolting he comes again
Over that road of old renown,Fair broad avenue, leading downThrough South Fields to Salem town,
Scourged and stung by the Muses' thong,Mounted high on the car of song,Sight that cries, O Lord! how long
Shall heaven look on and not take partWith the poor old man and his fluttering heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart?
Old Flood Ireson, now when FameWipes away with tears of shameStains from many an injured name,
Shall not, in the tuneful line,Beams of truth and mercy shineThrough the clouds that darken thine?
Take henceforth, perturbèd sprite,From the fever and the fright,Take the rest,—thy well-earned right.
Along the track of that hard rideThe form of Penitence oft shall glide,With tender Pity by her side;
And their tears, that mingling fallOn the dark record they recall,Shall cleanse the stain and expiate all.
Charles Timothy Brooks.
THE SECOND WAR WITH ENGLAND
The treaty of peace with England which closed the Revolution provided for the payment of English creditors and the restoration of confiscated estates, but the individual states refused to carry out this agreement, and England, in consequence, retained possession of some of the Western posts. To this were soon added other causes of annoyance, principal among which was the right claimed by England to impress into her service seamen of British birth, wherever found, and to stop and search the ships of the United States for this purpose.
The treaty of peace with England which closed the Revolution provided for the payment of English creditors and the restoration of confiscated estates, but the individual states refused to carry out this agreement, and England, in consequence, retained possession of some of the Western posts. To this were soon added other causes of annoyance, principal among which was the right claimed by England to impress into her service seamen of British birth, wherever found, and to stop and search the ships of the United States for this purpose.
THE TIMES
Ye brave sons of Freedom, come join in the chorus,At the dangers of war do not let us repine,But sing and rejoice at the prospect before us,And drink it success in a bumper of wine.At the call of the nation,Let each to his station,And resist depredation,Which our country degrades;Ere the conflict is over,Our rights we'll recover,Or punish whoeverOur honor invades.We're abused and insulted, our country's degraded,Our rights are infringed both by land and by sea;Let us rouse up, indignant, when those rights are invaded,And announce to the world, "We're united and free!"By our navy's protectionWe'll make our election,And in every directionOur trade shall be free;No British oppression,No Gallic aggressionShall disturb the possessionWe claim to the sea.Then Columbia's ships shall sail on the ocean,And the nations of Europe respect us at last:Our stars and our stripes shall command their devotion,And Liberty perch on the top of the mast.ThoughBonaandJohn BullContinue their long pull,Till ambition's cup-fullBe drain'd to the lees;By wisdom directed,By tyrants respected,By cannon protected,We'll traverse the seas.Though vile combinations to sever the UnionBe projected with caution and managed with care,Though traitors and Britons, in sweetest communion,Their patriot virtue unite and compare,American thunderShall rend it asunder,And ages shall wonderAt the deeds we have done:And every ToryWhen he hears of the story,Shall repine at the gloryOur heroes have won.Let local attachments be condemn'd and discarded,Distrust and suspicion be banish'd the mind,Let union, our safety, be ever regarded,When improved by example, by virtue refined.Our ancestors brought it,Our sages have taught it,Our Washington bought it,'Tis our glory and boast!No factions shall everOur government sever,But "Union forever,"Shall be our last toast.
Ye brave sons of Freedom, come join in the chorus,At the dangers of war do not let us repine,But sing and rejoice at the prospect before us,And drink it success in a bumper of wine.At the call of the nation,Let each to his station,And resist depredation,Which our country degrades;Ere the conflict is over,Our rights we'll recover,Or punish whoeverOur honor invades.We're abused and insulted, our country's degraded,Our rights are infringed both by land and by sea;Let us rouse up, indignant, when those rights are invaded,And announce to the world, "We're united and free!"By our navy's protectionWe'll make our election,And in every directionOur trade shall be free;No British oppression,No Gallic aggressionShall disturb the possessionWe claim to the sea.Then Columbia's ships shall sail on the ocean,And the nations of Europe respect us at last:Our stars and our stripes shall command their devotion,And Liberty perch on the top of the mast.ThoughBonaandJohn BullContinue their long pull,Till ambition's cup-fullBe drain'd to the lees;By wisdom directed,By tyrants respected,By cannon protected,We'll traverse the seas.Though vile combinations to sever the UnionBe projected with caution and managed with care,Though traitors and Britons, in sweetest communion,Their patriot virtue unite and compare,American thunderShall rend it asunder,And ages shall wonderAt the deeds we have done:And every ToryWhen he hears of the story,Shall repine at the gloryOur heroes have won.Let local attachments be condemn'd and discarded,Distrust and suspicion be banish'd the mind,Let union, our safety, be ever regarded,When improved by example, by virtue refined.Our ancestors brought it,Our sages have taught it,Our Washington bought it,'Tis our glory and boast!No factions shall everOur government sever,But "Union forever,"Shall be our last toast.
Ye brave sons of Freedom, come join in the chorus,At the dangers of war do not let us repine,But sing and rejoice at the prospect before us,And drink it success in a bumper of wine.At the call of the nation,Let each to his station,And resist depredation,Which our country degrades;Ere the conflict is over,Our rights we'll recover,Or punish whoeverOur honor invades.
We're abused and insulted, our country's degraded,Our rights are infringed both by land and by sea;Let us rouse up, indignant, when those rights are invaded,And announce to the world, "We're united and free!"By our navy's protectionWe'll make our election,And in every directionOur trade shall be free;No British oppression,No Gallic aggressionShall disturb the possessionWe claim to the sea.
Then Columbia's ships shall sail on the ocean,And the nations of Europe respect us at last:Our stars and our stripes shall command their devotion,And Liberty perch on the top of the mast.ThoughBonaandJohn BullContinue their long pull,Till ambition's cup-fullBe drain'd to the lees;By wisdom directed,By tyrants respected,By cannon protected,We'll traverse the seas.
Though vile combinations to sever the UnionBe projected with caution and managed with care,Though traitors and Britons, in sweetest communion,Their patriot virtue unite and compare,American thunderShall rend it asunder,And ages shall wonderAt the deeds we have done:And every ToryWhen he hears of the story,Shall repine at the gloryOur heroes have won.
Let local attachments be condemn'd and discarded,Distrust and suspicion be banish'd the mind,Let union, our safety, be ever regarded,When improved by example, by virtue refined.Our ancestors brought it,Our sages have taught it,Our Washington bought it,'Tis our glory and boast!No factions shall everOur government sever,But "Union forever,"Shall be our last toast.
Measures so outrageous made war seemingly inevitable; but Washington, through the Jay Treaty, managed to patch up a peace. In 1805 England, hard-pressed by Napoleon, again asserted the "right of search," and her war-vessels stopped merchantmen and cruisers alike and took off all persons whom the British commanders chose to regard as British subjects. Congress retaliated by prohibiting commerce with England. The embargo went into effect in January, 1808, and aroused sectional feeling to such an extent that New England threatened secession from the Union.
Measures so outrageous made war seemingly inevitable; but Washington, through the Jay Treaty, managed to patch up a peace. In 1805 England, hard-pressed by Napoleon, again asserted the "right of search," and her war-vessels stopped merchantmen and cruisers alike and took off all persons whom the British commanders chose to regard as British subjects. Congress retaliated by prohibiting commerce with England. The embargo went into effect in January, 1808, and aroused sectional feeling to such an extent that New England threatened secession from the Union.
REPARATION OR WAR
WRITTEN DURING THE EMBARGO
Rejoice, rejoice, brave patriots, rejoice!Our martial sons take a bold and manly stand!Rejoice, rejoice, exulting raise your voice,Let union pervade our happy land.The altar of Liberty shall never be polluted,But freedom expand and flourish, firm and deeply rooted.Our eagle, towering high,Triumphantly shall fly,While men likeJeffersonpreside to serve their country!Huzza! huzza! boys, etc., etc.With firmness we'll resent our wrongs sustain'd at sea;Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.To arms, to arms, with ardor rush to arms,Our injured rights have long for vengeance cried.To arms, to arms, prepare for war's alarms,If honest reparation be denied.Though feeble counteracting plans, or foreign combinations,May interdict awhile our trade, against the law of nations,The embargo on suppliesShall open Europe's eyes;Proclaiming unto all the world, "Columbia will be free."Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.With honor we'll maintain a just neutrality.Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.Defend, defend, ye heroes and ye sages,The gift divine—your independency!Transmit with joy, down to future ages,How Washington achieved your liberty.When freemen are insulted, they send forth vengeful thunder,Determined to maintain their rights, strike the foe with wonder.They cheerfully will toil,To cultivate the soil,And rather live on humble fare than feast ignobly.Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.United, firm we stand, invincible and free,Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.Then none but slaves shall bend to tyranny.
Rejoice, rejoice, brave patriots, rejoice!Our martial sons take a bold and manly stand!Rejoice, rejoice, exulting raise your voice,Let union pervade our happy land.The altar of Liberty shall never be polluted,But freedom expand and flourish, firm and deeply rooted.Our eagle, towering high,Triumphantly shall fly,While men likeJeffersonpreside to serve their country!Huzza! huzza! boys, etc., etc.With firmness we'll resent our wrongs sustain'd at sea;Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.To arms, to arms, with ardor rush to arms,Our injured rights have long for vengeance cried.To arms, to arms, prepare for war's alarms,If honest reparation be denied.Though feeble counteracting plans, or foreign combinations,May interdict awhile our trade, against the law of nations,The embargo on suppliesShall open Europe's eyes;Proclaiming unto all the world, "Columbia will be free."Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.With honor we'll maintain a just neutrality.Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.Defend, defend, ye heroes and ye sages,The gift divine—your independency!Transmit with joy, down to future ages,How Washington achieved your liberty.When freemen are insulted, they send forth vengeful thunder,Determined to maintain their rights, strike the foe with wonder.They cheerfully will toil,To cultivate the soil,And rather live on humble fare than feast ignobly.Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.United, firm we stand, invincible and free,Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.Then none but slaves shall bend to tyranny.
Rejoice, rejoice, brave patriots, rejoice!Our martial sons take a bold and manly stand!Rejoice, rejoice, exulting raise your voice,Let union pervade our happy land.The altar of Liberty shall never be polluted,But freedom expand and flourish, firm and deeply rooted.Our eagle, towering high,Triumphantly shall fly,While men likeJeffersonpreside to serve their country!Huzza! huzza! boys, etc., etc.With firmness we'll resent our wrongs sustain'd at sea;Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.
To arms, to arms, with ardor rush to arms,Our injured rights have long for vengeance cried.To arms, to arms, prepare for war's alarms,If honest reparation be denied.Though feeble counteracting plans, or foreign combinations,May interdict awhile our trade, against the law of nations,The embargo on suppliesShall open Europe's eyes;Proclaiming unto all the world, "Columbia will be free."Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.With honor we'll maintain a just neutrality.Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.
Defend, defend, ye heroes and ye sages,The gift divine—your independency!Transmit with joy, down to future ages,How Washington achieved your liberty.When freemen are insulted, they send forth vengeful thunder,Determined to maintain their rights, strike the foe with wonder.They cheerfully will toil,To cultivate the soil,And rather live on humble fare than feast ignobly.Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.United, firm we stand, invincible and free,Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.Then none but slaves shall bend to tyranny.
The opponents of the embargo termed the conflict a "terrapin war,"—the nation, by extinguishing commerce, drawing within its own shell like a terrapin; and at gatherings of the Federalists, a song by that title was very popular.
The opponents of the embargo termed the conflict a "terrapin war,"—the nation, by extinguishing commerce, drawing within its own shell like a terrapin; and at gatherings of the Federalists, a song by that title was very popular.
TERRAPIN WAR
Huzza for our liberty, boys,These are the days of our glory—The days of true national joys,When terrapins gallop before ye!There's Porter and Grundy and Rhea,In Congress who manfully vapor,Who draw their six dollars a day,And fight bloody battleson paper!Ah! this is true Terrapin war.Poor Madison the tremors has got,'Bout this same arming the nation;Too far to retract, he cannotGo on—and he loses his station.Then bring up your "regulars," lads,In "attitude" nothing ye lack, sirs,Ye'll frighten to death the Danads,With fire-coals blazing aback, sirs!Oh, this is true Terrapin war!As to powder and bullets and swords,For, as they were never intended,They're a parcel of high-sounding words,But never toactionextended.Ye mustfrightenthe rascals away,In "rapid descent" on their quarters;Then the plunder divide as ye may,And drive them headlong in the waters.Oh, this isgreatTerrapin war!
Huzza for our liberty, boys,These are the days of our glory—The days of true national joys,When terrapins gallop before ye!There's Porter and Grundy and Rhea,In Congress who manfully vapor,Who draw their six dollars a day,And fight bloody battleson paper!Ah! this is true Terrapin war.Poor Madison the tremors has got,'Bout this same arming the nation;Too far to retract, he cannotGo on—and he loses his station.Then bring up your "regulars," lads,In "attitude" nothing ye lack, sirs,Ye'll frighten to death the Danads,With fire-coals blazing aback, sirs!Oh, this is true Terrapin war!As to powder and bullets and swords,For, as they were never intended,They're a parcel of high-sounding words,But never toactionextended.Ye mustfrightenthe rascals away,In "rapid descent" on their quarters;Then the plunder divide as ye may,And drive them headlong in the waters.Oh, this isgreatTerrapin war!
Huzza for our liberty, boys,These are the days of our glory—The days of true national joys,When terrapins gallop before ye!There's Porter and Grundy and Rhea,In Congress who manfully vapor,Who draw their six dollars a day,And fight bloody battleson paper!Ah! this is true Terrapin war.
Poor Madison the tremors has got,'Bout this same arming the nation;Too far to retract, he cannotGo on—and he loses his station.Then bring up your "regulars," lads,In "attitude" nothing ye lack, sirs,Ye'll frighten to death the Danads,With fire-coals blazing aback, sirs!Oh, this is true Terrapin war!
As to powder and bullets and swords,For, as they were never intended,They're a parcel of high-sounding words,But never toactionextended.Ye mustfrightenthe rascals away,In "rapid descent" on their quarters;Then the plunder divide as ye may,And drive them headlong in the waters.Oh, this isgreatTerrapin war!
But the hostility to Great Britain grew steadily more bitter, and the war party was led by such able men as Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun. Various incidents tended to fan the flames, and on June 18, 1812, war was declared.
But the hostility to Great Britain grew steadily more bitter, and the war party was led by such able men as Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun. Various incidents tended to fan the flames, and on June 18, 1812, war was declared.
FAREWELL, PEACE
[June 18, 1812]
Farewell, Peace! another crisisCalls us to "the last appeal,"Made when monarchs and their vicesLeave no argument butsteel.When injustice and oppressionDare avow the tyrant's plea.Who would recommend submission?Virtue bids us to be free.History spreads her page before us,Time unrolls his ample scroll;Truth unfolds them, to assure us,States, united, ne'er can fall.See, in annals Greek and Roman,What immortal deeds we find;When those gallant sons of womanIn their country's cause combined.Sons of Freedom! brave descendantsFrom a race of heroes tried,To preserve our independenceLet all Europe be defied.Let not all the world, united,Rob us of one sacred right:Every patriot heart's delightedIn his country's cause to fight.Come then, War! with hearts elatedTo thy standard we will fly;Every bosom animatedEither to live free or die.May the wretch that shrinks from duty,Or deserts the glorious strife,Never know the smile of beauty,Nor the blessing of a wife.
Farewell, Peace! another crisisCalls us to "the last appeal,"Made when monarchs and their vicesLeave no argument butsteel.When injustice and oppressionDare avow the tyrant's plea.Who would recommend submission?Virtue bids us to be free.History spreads her page before us,Time unrolls his ample scroll;Truth unfolds them, to assure us,States, united, ne'er can fall.See, in annals Greek and Roman,What immortal deeds we find;When those gallant sons of womanIn their country's cause combined.Sons of Freedom! brave descendantsFrom a race of heroes tried,To preserve our independenceLet all Europe be defied.Let not all the world, united,Rob us of one sacred right:Every patriot heart's delightedIn his country's cause to fight.Come then, War! with hearts elatedTo thy standard we will fly;Every bosom animatedEither to live free or die.May the wretch that shrinks from duty,Or deserts the glorious strife,Never know the smile of beauty,Nor the blessing of a wife.
Farewell, Peace! another crisisCalls us to "the last appeal,"Made when monarchs and their vicesLeave no argument butsteel.When injustice and oppressionDare avow the tyrant's plea.Who would recommend submission?Virtue bids us to be free.
History spreads her page before us,Time unrolls his ample scroll;Truth unfolds them, to assure us,States, united, ne'er can fall.See, in annals Greek and Roman,What immortal deeds we find;When those gallant sons of womanIn their country's cause combined.
Sons of Freedom! brave descendantsFrom a race of heroes tried,To preserve our independenceLet all Europe be defied.Let not all the world, united,Rob us of one sacred right:Every patriot heart's delightedIn his country's cause to fight.
Come then, War! with hearts elatedTo thy standard we will fly;Every bosom animatedEither to live free or die.May the wretch that shrinks from duty,Or deserts the glorious strife,Never know the smile of beauty,Nor the blessing of a wife.
The Federalists claimed that war had been declared, not to avenge the country's wrongs upon the ocean, but to conquer Canada. Canada was, indeed, the first objective, and troops were enlisted and hurried forward to the various northern posts.
The Federalists claimed that war had been declared, not to avenge the country's wrongs upon the ocean, but to conquer Canada. Canada was, indeed, the first objective, and troops were enlisted and hurried forward to the various northern posts.
COME, YE LADS, WHO WISH TO SHINE
Come, ye lads, who wish to shineBright in future story,Haste to arms, and form the lineThat leads to martial glory.Beat the drum, the trumpet sound,Manly and united,Danger face, maintain your ground,And see your country righted.Columbia, when her eagle's roused,And her flag is rearingWill always find her sons disposedTo drub the foe that's daring.Beat the drum, etc.Hearts of oak, protect the coast,Pour your naval thunder,While on shore a mighty hostShall strike the world with wonder.Beat the drum, etc.Haste to Quebec's towering walls,Through the British regions;Hark! Montgomery's spirit calls,Drive the hostile legions.Beat the drum, etc.Honor for the brave to shareIs the noblest booty;Guard your rights, protect the fair,For that's a soldier's duty.Beat the drum, etc.Charge the musket, point the lance,Brave the worst of dangers;Tell to Britain and to France,That we to fear are strangers.Beat the drum, etc.
Come, ye lads, who wish to shineBright in future story,Haste to arms, and form the lineThat leads to martial glory.Beat the drum, the trumpet sound,Manly and united,Danger face, maintain your ground,And see your country righted.Columbia, when her eagle's roused,And her flag is rearingWill always find her sons disposedTo drub the foe that's daring.Beat the drum, etc.Hearts of oak, protect the coast,Pour your naval thunder,While on shore a mighty hostShall strike the world with wonder.Beat the drum, etc.Haste to Quebec's towering walls,Through the British regions;Hark! Montgomery's spirit calls,Drive the hostile legions.Beat the drum, etc.Honor for the brave to shareIs the noblest booty;Guard your rights, protect the fair,For that's a soldier's duty.Beat the drum, etc.Charge the musket, point the lance,Brave the worst of dangers;Tell to Britain and to France,That we to fear are strangers.Beat the drum, etc.
Come, ye lads, who wish to shineBright in future story,Haste to arms, and form the lineThat leads to martial glory.Beat the drum, the trumpet sound,Manly and united,Danger face, maintain your ground,And see your country righted.
Columbia, when her eagle's roused,And her flag is rearingWill always find her sons disposedTo drub the foe that's daring.Beat the drum, etc.
Hearts of oak, protect the coast,Pour your naval thunder,While on shore a mighty hostShall strike the world with wonder.Beat the drum, etc.
Haste to Quebec's towering walls,Through the British regions;Hark! Montgomery's spirit calls,Drive the hostile legions.Beat the drum, etc.
Honor for the brave to shareIs the noblest booty;Guard your rights, protect the fair,For that's a soldier's duty.Beat the drum, etc.
Charge the musket, point the lance,Brave the worst of dangers;Tell to Britain and to France,That we to fear are strangers.Beat the drum, etc.
The Canadian campaign was soon to end ignominiously enough. In July, General Hull, governor of Michigan territory, crossed from Detroit into Canada, then crossed back again, and on August 16, without striking a blow, surrendered Detroit and his entire army to the British under General Brock. Hull was afterwards tried by court-martial, convicted of cowardice, and sentenced to be shot, but the sentence was commuted.
The Canadian campaign was soon to end ignominiously enough. In July, General Hull, governor of Michigan territory, crossed from Detroit into Canada, then crossed back again, and on August 16, without striking a blow, surrendered Detroit and his entire army to the British under General Brock. Hull was afterwards tried by court-martial, convicted of cowardice, and sentenced to be shot, but the sentence was commuted.
HULL'S SURRENDEROR, VILLANY SOMEWHERE
[August 16, 1812]
Ye Columbians so bold, attend while I sing;Sure treason and treachery's not quite the thing,At a time like the present, we ought, one and all,In defence of our rights, to stand nobly or fall.ChorusThen let traitors be banish'd Columbia's fair shore,And treason be known in her borders no more.With a brave, gallant armyHullwent to Detroit,And swore he'd accomplish a noble exploit;That the British and Indians he'd conquer outright,And give cause to his country of joy and delight.ChorusBut if traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,O let it be known in her borders no more.Ah! quickly alas! defeat and disgraceStar'd our brave noble soldiers quite full in the face,When they thought that the victory was sure to be won,Their general gave up,without firing a gun.ChorusThen do traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,If they do, let them dwell in her borders no more!Those heroes, who bravely on the Wabash had fought,Who for glory successfully nobly had sought,Where thefavordenied of asserting their wrongs,And deprived of thatrightwhich to freemen belongs.ChorusThen if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,O let it be known in her borders no more!Is it true that our soldiers were wrongfully us'd?Is it true that they've been by theirGeneralabus'd?Is it true that an army so gallant weresold?Is it true thatColumbianswere barter'd for gold?ChorusIf it is, then does treason still dwell on our shore,But let it be known in our country no more!Ye heroes who fought by the side of braveFloyd,Ye heroes, conducted to glory byBoyd,Think not that your brethren will quietly bear,From your brows that a traitor your laurels should tear.ChorusNo—if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,It shall soon be expell'd to reside here no more.Then rouse ye brave freemen, and heed no alarms,Your dear native country now calls you to arms,Away to the battle, and count not the costTill the glory you gain, which so basely was lost.ChorusFor if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,By our fathers we swear it shall dwell here no more.
Ye Columbians so bold, attend while I sing;Sure treason and treachery's not quite the thing,At a time like the present, we ought, one and all,In defence of our rights, to stand nobly or fall.ChorusThen let traitors be banish'd Columbia's fair shore,And treason be known in her borders no more.With a brave, gallant armyHullwent to Detroit,And swore he'd accomplish a noble exploit;That the British and Indians he'd conquer outright,And give cause to his country of joy and delight.ChorusBut if traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,O let it be known in her borders no more.Ah! quickly alas! defeat and disgraceStar'd our brave noble soldiers quite full in the face,When they thought that the victory was sure to be won,Their general gave up,without firing a gun.ChorusThen do traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,If they do, let them dwell in her borders no more!Those heroes, who bravely on the Wabash had fought,Who for glory successfully nobly had sought,Where thefavordenied of asserting their wrongs,And deprived of thatrightwhich to freemen belongs.ChorusThen if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,O let it be known in her borders no more!Is it true that our soldiers were wrongfully us'd?Is it true that they've been by theirGeneralabus'd?Is it true that an army so gallant weresold?Is it true thatColumbianswere barter'd for gold?ChorusIf it is, then does treason still dwell on our shore,But let it be known in our country no more!Ye heroes who fought by the side of braveFloyd,Ye heroes, conducted to glory byBoyd,Think not that your brethren will quietly bear,From your brows that a traitor your laurels should tear.ChorusNo—if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,It shall soon be expell'd to reside here no more.Then rouse ye brave freemen, and heed no alarms,Your dear native country now calls you to arms,Away to the battle, and count not the costTill the glory you gain, which so basely was lost.ChorusFor if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,By our fathers we swear it shall dwell here no more.
Ye Columbians so bold, attend while I sing;Sure treason and treachery's not quite the thing,At a time like the present, we ought, one and all,In defence of our rights, to stand nobly or fall.
Chorus
Then let traitors be banish'd Columbia's fair shore,And treason be known in her borders no more.
With a brave, gallant armyHullwent to Detroit,And swore he'd accomplish a noble exploit;That the British and Indians he'd conquer outright,And give cause to his country of joy and delight.
Chorus
But if traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,O let it be known in her borders no more.
Ah! quickly alas! defeat and disgraceStar'd our brave noble soldiers quite full in the face,When they thought that the victory was sure to be won,Their general gave up,without firing a gun.
Chorus
Then do traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,If they do, let them dwell in her borders no more!
Those heroes, who bravely on the Wabash had fought,Who for glory successfully nobly had sought,Where thefavordenied of asserting their wrongs,And deprived of thatrightwhich to freemen belongs.
Chorus
Then if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,O let it be known in her borders no more!
Is it true that our soldiers were wrongfully us'd?Is it true that they've been by theirGeneralabus'd?Is it true that an army so gallant weresold?Is it true thatColumbianswere barter'd for gold?
Chorus
If it is, then does treason still dwell on our shore,But let it be known in our country no more!
Ye heroes who fought by the side of braveFloyd,Ye heroes, conducted to glory byBoyd,Think not that your brethren will quietly bear,From your brows that a traitor your laurels should tear.
Chorus
No—if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,It shall soon be expell'd to reside here no more.
Then rouse ye brave freemen, and heed no alarms,Your dear native country now calls you to arms,Away to the battle, and count not the costTill the glory you gain, which so basely was lost.
Chorus
For if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,By our fathers we swear it shall dwell here no more.
The fury which the news of this disaster aroused was tempered by rejoicing for a remarkable victory on the ocean. Anxious to meet some of the famous British frigates, Captain Isaac Hull put out from Boston with the Constitution on August 2. He sailed without orders, and had the cruise resulted disastrously, he would probably have been court-martialed and shot. On the afternoon of August 19, a sail was sighted off Halifax and proved to be the British frigate Guerrière. Hull at once attacked, and soon reduced the enemy to a "perfect wreck." The Constitution sustained little injury and got safely back to port.
The fury which the news of this disaster aroused was tempered by rejoicing for a remarkable victory on the ocean. Anxious to meet some of the famous British frigates, Captain Isaac Hull put out from Boston with the Constitution on August 2. He sailed without orders, and had the cruise resulted disastrously, he would probably have been court-martialed and shot. On the afternoon of August 19, a sail was sighted off Halifax and proved to be the British frigate Guerrière. Hull at once attacked, and soon reduced the enemy to a "perfect wreck." The Constitution sustained little injury and got safely back to port.
THE CONSTITUTION AND THE GUERRIÈRE
[August 19, 1812]
I often have been toldThat the British seamen boldCould beat the tars of France neat and handy O;But they never found their match,Till the Yankees did them catch,For the Yankee tars for fighting are the dandy O.O, the Guerrière so boldOn the foaming ocean rolled,Commanded by Dacres the grandee O;For the choice of British crewThat a rammer ever drewCould beat the Frenchmen two to one quite handy O.When the frigate hove in view,"O," said Dacres to his crew,"Prepare ye for action and be handy O;On the weather-gauge we'll get her."And to make his men fight better,He gave to them gunpowder and good brandy O.Now this boasting Briton cries,"Make that Yankee ship your prize,You can in thirty minutes do it handy O,Or twenty-five, I'm sureYou'll do it in a score,I will give you a double share of good brandy O."When prisoners we've made them,With switchell we will treat them,We will treat them with 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' O;"The British balls flew hot,But the Yankees answered not,Until they got a distance that was handy O."O," cried Hull unto his crew,"We'll try what we can do;If we beat those boasting Britons we're the dandy O."The first broadside we pouredBrought the mizzen by the board,Which doused the royal ensign quite handy O.O Dacres he did sigh,And to his officers did cry,"I did not think these Yankees were so handy O."The second told so wellThat the fore and main-mast fell,Which made this lofty frigate look quite handy O."O," says Dacres, "we're undone,"So he fires a lee gun.Our drummer struck up "Yankee Doodle Dandy" O;When Dacres came on boardTo deliver up his sword,He was loth to part with it, it looked so handy O."You may keep it," says brave Hull."What makes you look so dull?Cheer up and take a glass of good brandy O;"O Britons now be still,Since we've hooked you in the gill,Don't boast upon Dacres the grandee O.
I often have been toldThat the British seamen boldCould beat the tars of France neat and handy O;But they never found their match,Till the Yankees did them catch,For the Yankee tars for fighting are the dandy O.O, the Guerrière so boldOn the foaming ocean rolled,Commanded by Dacres the grandee O;For the choice of British crewThat a rammer ever drewCould beat the Frenchmen two to one quite handy O.When the frigate hove in view,"O," said Dacres to his crew,"Prepare ye for action and be handy O;On the weather-gauge we'll get her."And to make his men fight better,He gave to them gunpowder and good brandy O.Now this boasting Briton cries,"Make that Yankee ship your prize,You can in thirty minutes do it handy O,Or twenty-five, I'm sureYou'll do it in a score,I will give you a double share of good brandy O."When prisoners we've made them,With switchell we will treat them,We will treat them with 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' O;"The British balls flew hot,But the Yankees answered not,Until they got a distance that was handy O."O," cried Hull unto his crew,"We'll try what we can do;If we beat those boasting Britons we're the dandy O."The first broadside we pouredBrought the mizzen by the board,Which doused the royal ensign quite handy O.O Dacres he did sigh,And to his officers did cry,"I did not think these Yankees were so handy O."The second told so wellThat the fore and main-mast fell,Which made this lofty frigate look quite handy O."O," says Dacres, "we're undone,"So he fires a lee gun.Our drummer struck up "Yankee Doodle Dandy" O;When Dacres came on boardTo deliver up his sword,He was loth to part with it, it looked so handy O."You may keep it," says brave Hull."What makes you look so dull?Cheer up and take a glass of good brandy O;"O Britons now be still,Since we've hooked you in the gill,Don't boast upon Dacres the grandee O.
I often have been toldThat the British seamen boldCould beat the tars of France neat and handy O;But they never found their match,Till the Yankees did them catch,For the Yankee tars for fighting are the dandy O.
O, the Guerrière so boldOn the foaming ocean rolled,Commanded by Dacres the grandee O;For the choice of British crewThat a rammer ever drewCould beat the Frenchmen two to one quite handy O.
When the frigate hove in view,"O," said Dacres to his crew,"Prepare ye for action and be handy O;On the weather-gauge we'll get her."And to make his men fight better,He gave to them gunpowder and good brandy O.
Now this boasting Briton cries,"Make that Yankee ship your prize,You can in thirty minutes do it handy O,Or twenty-five, I'm sureYou'll do it in a score,I will give you a double share of good brandy O.
"When prisoners we've made them,With switchell we will treat them,We will treat them with 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' O;"The British balls flew hot,But the Yankees answered not,Until they got a distance that was handy O.
"O," cried Hull unto his crew,"We'll try what we can do;If we beat those boasting Britons we're the dandy O."The first broadside we pouredBrought the mizzen by the board,Which doused the royal ensign quite handy O.
O Dacres he did sigh,And to his officers did cry,"I did not think these Yankees were so handy O."The second told so wellThat the fore and main-mast fell,Which made this lofty frigate look quite handy O.
"O," says Dacres, "we're undone,"So he fires a lee gun.Our drummer struck up "Yankee Doodle Dandy" O;When Dacres came on boardTo deliver up his sword,He was loth to part with it, it looked so handy O.
"You may keep it," says brave Hull."What makes you look so dull?Cheer up and take a glass of good brandy O;"O Britons now be still,Since we've hooked you in the gill,Don't boast upon Dacres the grandee O.
HALIFAX STATION
[August 19, 1812]