PARADING near Saint Peter’s flood | |
| Full fourteen thousand soldiers stood; | |
| Allied with natives of the wood, | |
| With frigates, sloops, and galleys near; | |
| Which southward, now, began to steer; | 5 |
| Their object was, Ticonderogue. | |
| |
| Assembled at Missisqui bay | |
| A feast they held, to hail the day, | |
| When all should bend to British sway | |
| From Plattsburgh to Ticonderogue. | 10 |
| |
| And who could tell, if reaching there | |
| They might not other laurels share | |
| And England’s flag in triumph bear | |
| To the capitol, at Albany! | |
| |
| Sir George advanced, with fire and sword, | 15 |
| The frigates were with vengeance stored, | |
| The strength of Mars was felt on board,— | |
| When Downie gave the dreadful word, | |
| Huzza! for death or victory! | |
| |
| Sir George beheld the prize at stake, | 20 |
| And, with his veterans, made the attack, | |
| Macomb’s brave legions drove him back; | |
| And England’s fleet approached, to meet | |
| A desperate combat, on the lake. | |
| |
| From Isle La Motte to Saranac | 25 |
| With sulphurous clouds the heavens were black; | |
| We saw advance the Confiance, | |
| Shall blood and carnage mark her track, | |
| To gain dominion on the lake. | |
| |
| Then on our ships she poured her flame, | 30 |
| And many a tar did kill or maim, | |
| Who suffered for their country’s fame, | |
| Her soil to save, her rights to guard. | |
| |
| Macdonough, now, began his play, | |
| And soon his seamen heard him say, | 35 |
| “No Saratoga yields, this day, | |
| To all the force that Britain sends. | |
| |
| “Disperse, my lads, and man the waist, | |
| Be firm, and to your stations haste, | |
| And England from Champlain is chased, | 40 |
| If you behave as you see me.” | |
| |
| The fire began with awful roar; | |
| At our first flash the artillery tore, | |
| From his proud stand, their commodore, | |
| A presage of the victory. | 45 |
| |
| The skies were hid in flame and smoke, | |
| Such thunders from the cannon spoke, | |
| The contest such an aspect took | |
| As if all nature went to wreck! | |
| |
| Amidst his decks, with slaughter strewed, | 50 |
| Unmoved, the brave Macdonough stood, | |
| Or waded through a scene of blood, | |
| At every step that round him streamed: | |
| |
| He stood amidst Columbia’s sons, | |
| He stood amidst dismounted guns, | 55 |
| He fought amidst heart-rending groans, | |
| The tattered sail, the tottering mast. | |
| |
| Then, round about, his ship he wore, | |
| And charged his guns with vengeance sore, | |
| And more than Etna shook the shore— | 60 |
| The foe confessed the contest vain. | |
| |
| In vain they fought, in vain they sailed, | |
| That day; for Britain’s fortune failed, | |
| And their best efforts naught availed | |
| To hold dominion on Champlain. | 65 |
| |
| So, down their colors to the deck | |
| The vanquished struck—their ships a wreck— | |
| What dismal tidings for Quebec, | |
| What news for England and her prince! | |
| |
| For, in this fleet, from England won, | 70 |
| A favorite project is undone; | |
| Her sorrows only are begun— | |
| And she may want, and very soon, | |
| Her armies for her own defence. | |
| |
