Close to the wind was brac'd each shivering sail; Next from the deck we saw the approaching foe, Her spangled bottom seem'd in flames to glow When to the winds she bow'd in dreadful haste And her lee-guns lay delug'd in the waste:
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From her topgallant flow'd an English Jack; With all her might she strove to gain our track, Nor strove in vain--with pride and power elate, Wing'd on by hell, she drove us to our fate;
No stop no stay her bloody crew intends,
(So flies a comet with its host of fiends)
Nor oaths, nor prayers arrest her swift career, Death in her front, and ruin in her rear.
Struck at the sight, the Master gave command
To change our course, and steer toward the land-- Swift to the task the ready sailors run,
And while the word was utter'd, half was done:
As from the south the fiercer breezes rise Swift from her foe alarm'd Aurora flies, With every sail extended to the wind
She fled the unequal foe that chac'd behind;
Along her decks dispos'd in close array
Each at its port, the grim artillery lay,
Soon on the foe with brazen throat to roar;
But, small their size, and narrow was their bore; Yet faithful they their destin'd station keep
To guard the barque that wafts them o'er the deep, Who now must bend to steer a homeward course And trust her swiftness rather than her force,
Unfit to combat with a powerful foe;
Her decks too open, and her waist too low.
While o'er the wave with foaming prow she flies, Once more emerging, distant landscapes rise;[Pg 22] High in the air the starry streamer plays,
And every sail its various tribute pays:
To gain the land we bore the weighty blast; And now the wish'd for cape appear'd at last; But the vext foe, impatient of delay,
Prepar'd for ruin, press'd upon her prey;
Near, and more near, in aweful grandeur came
The frigate Iris, not unknown to fame;
Iris her name, but Hancock once she bore, Fram'd and completed on New Albion's shore, By Manly lost, the swiftest of the train
That fly with wings of canvas o'er the main. Now, while for combat some with zeal prepare, Thus to the heavens the Boatswain sent his prayer: "List, all ye powers that rule the skies and seas! "Shower down perdition on such thieves as these, "Fate, strike their hearts with terror and dismay, "And sprinkle on their powder salt-sea spray!
"May bursting cannon, while his aim he tries, "Destroy the Gunner, and be-damn his eyes-- "The chief who awes the quarter-deck, may he, "Tripp'd from his stand, be tumbled in the sea. "May they who rule the round-top's giddy height "Be canted headlong to perpetual night;
"May fiends torment them on a leeward coast, "And help forsake them when they want it most-- "From their wheel'd engines torn be every gun-- "And now, to sum up every curse in one,
"May latent flames, to save us, intervene,
"And hell-ward drive them from their magazine!"--
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The Frigate now had every sail unfurl'd,
And rush'd tremendous o'er the wat'ry world;
Thus fierce Pelides, eager to destroy,
Chac'd the proud Trojan to the gates of Troy--[Pg 23] Swift o'er the waves while hostile they pursue
As swiftly from their fangs Aurora flew,
At length Henlopen's cape we gain'd once more, And vainly strove to force the ship ashore;
Stern fate forbade the barren shore to gain, Denial sad, and source of future pain!
For then the inspiring breezes ceas'd to blow, Lost were they all, and smooth the seas below; By the broad cape becalm'd, our lifeless sails No longer swell'd their bosoms to the gales; The ship, unable to pursue her way,
Tumbling about, at her own guidance lay,
No more the helm its wonted influence lends, No oars assist us, and no breeze befriends; Meantime the foe, advancing from the sea, Rang'd her black cannon, pointed on our lee, Then up she luff 'd, and blaz'd her entrails dire, Bearing destruction, terror, death and fire.
Vext at our fate, we prim'd a piece, and then Return'd the shot, to shew them we were men. Dull night at length her dusky pinions spread, And every hope to 'scape the foe was fled;
Close to thy cape, Henlopen, though we press'd, We could not gain thy desert, dreary breast; Though ruin'd trees beshroud thy barren shore With mounds of sand half hid, or cover'd o'er, Though ruffian winds disturb thy summit bare, Yet every hope and every wish was there;
In vain we sought to reach the joyless strand, Fate stood between, and barr'd us from the land. All dead becalm'd, and helpless as we lay,
The ebbing current forc'd us back to sea, While vengeful Iris, thirsting for our blood,
Flash'd her red lightnings o'er the trembling flood,[Pg 24] At every flash a storm of ruin came
'Till our shock'd vessel shook through all her frame-- Mad for revenge, our breasts with fury glow
To wreak returns of vengeance on the foe; Full at his hull our pointed guns we rais'd, His hull resounded as the cannon blaz'd;
Through his main topsail one a passage tore, His sides re-echo'd to the dreadful roar, Alternate fires dispell'd the shades of night-- But how unequal was this daring fight!
Our stoutest guns threw but a six-pound ball, Twelve pounders from the foe our sides did maul, And, while no power to save him intervenes,
A bullet struck our captain of Marines; Fierce, though he bid defiance to the foe He felt his death and ruin in the blow,
Headlong he fell, distracted with the wound,
The deck distain'd, and heart blood streaming round. Another blast, as fatal in its aim,
Wing'd by destruction, through our rigging came,
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And, whistling tunes from hell upon its way, Shrouds, stays, and braces tore at once away,
Sails, blocks, and oars in scatter'd fragments fly-- Their softest language was--submit, or die! Repeated cries throughout the ship resound;
Now every bullet brought a different wound;
'Twixt wind and water, one assail'd the side, Through this aperture rush'd the briny tide--
'Twas then the Master trembled for his crew, And bade thy shores, O Delaware, adieu!-- And must we yield to yon' destructive ball, And must our colours to these ruffians fall!--
They fall!--his thunders forc'd our pride to bend, The lofty topsails with their yards descend,[Pg 25] And the proud foe, such leagues of ocean pass'd, His wish completed in our woe at last.
Convey'd to York, we found, at length, too late, That Death was better than the prisoner's fate; There doom'd to famine, shackles and despair, Condemn'd to breathe a foul, infected air
In sickly hulks, devoted while we lay,
Successive funerals gloom'd each dismal day-- But what on captives British rage can do, Another Canto, friend, shall let you know. Canto II.--The Prison Ship
The various horrors of these hulks to tell,
These Prison Ships where pain and horror dwell, Where death in tenfold vengeance holds his reign, And injur'd ghosts, yet unaveng'd, complain;
This be my task--ungenerous Britons, you Conspire to murder those you can't subdue.-- Weak as I am, I'll try my strength to-day
And my best arrows at these hell-hounds play, To future years one scene of death prolong, And hang them up to infamy, in song.