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William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

Battle—a Naval Ode—1815

OF Columbia in her might,

Sing again of naval war,

When, in fierce and bloody fight,

Our gallant, favour’d tar,

Brave Biddle, met the foe on the wave:

Then thrice Brazilian shore

Heard her guns triumphant roar,

And its waves drank deep of gore

Of the brave.

’Twas March the twenty-third

When the Hornet’s eager crew

The cheering signal heard,

And the word as lightning flew,

When the seaman, from aloft, cried, “a sail!”

Then glanced each stripe and star

As, on board, each dauntless tar

Gave three cheers, that floated far

On the gale.

Now steady gales from west

Proudly swell’d the crowded sails,

And glow’d each warrior’s breast,

While through the ship prevails

Deep silence, like the sleep of the dead—

Save, at intervals, is heard,

The captain’s mandate word,

“Keep her steady, thus aboard,

Mind her head!”

Ranged broadside to broadside,

For the close decisive fight,

Waved the St. George in its pride:

But our victor stars, more bright,

Beam’d defiance to the might of the foe:

Soon their shouts that swell the gale,

Shall be changed to sounds of wail,

And their “meteor-flag” wane pale

In their wo.

Then fore and aft each gun

O’er and o’er its thunders peal’d,

Till the war-clouds veil’d the sun,

And each gallant ship conceal’d.

Yet o’er the deep the battle loudly roar’d:

Now another broadside given

As by lightning-blast of heaven,

The Briton’s mast is riven

By the board.

Now yard and yard engaged,

O’er the Penguin havoc spread;

Yet the battle fiercely raged

Till her deck was strew’d with dead:

And as the swelling ocean made her heel,

By sulphureous blaze reveal’d,

As each thundering broadside peal’d,

The shatter’d Red-cross reel’d

On her keel.

Then sunk Britannia’s pride;

Waved her haughty flag no more;

But, o’er the troubled tide,

The proud Britons aid implore,

And quarters from the valiant victors crave.

Ceased the fierce and bloody fray,

And the dun clouds roll’d away,

When, a wreck, the Briton lay

On the wave.

Now laud we that good Power

Who our gallant hero saved,

When danger’s darkest hour

On the deck of fame he braved,

And the victor’s eagle perch’d upon his crest—

And the fame shall spread afar

Of each true patriot tar

Who has triumph’d ’neath the star

Of the west!