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ON
THE CAPTURE OF THE GUERRIERE
Long the Tyrant of our coast
Reign'd the famous Guerriere;
Our little navy she defy'd.
Public ship and privateer:
On her sails in letters red,
To our captains were display'd
Words of warning, words of dread,
All, who meet me, have a care!
I am
On the wide, Atlantic deep
(Not her equal for the fight)
The Constitution, on her way,
Chanced to meet these men of
might:
On her sails was nothing said,
But her waist the teeth displayed
That a deal of blood could shed,
Which, if she would venture
near,
Would stain the decks of the
Guerriere.
Now our gallant ship they met ‑‑
And, to struggle with John Bull ‑‑
Who had come, they little thought,
Strangers, yet, to Isaac Hull:
Better, soon, to be acquainted:
Isaac hail's the lord's anointed ‑‑
While the crew the cannon pointed,
And the balls were so directed
With a blaze so unexpected;
Isaac did so maul and rake her
That the decks of Captain Dacres
Were in such a woeful pickle
As if death, with scythe and
sickle,
With his sling, or with his
shaft
Had cut his harvest fore and
aft.
Thus, in thirty minutes ended,
Mischiefs that could not be
mended:
Masts, and yards, and ship
descended,
All to Davy Jones' locker ‑‑
Such a ship in such a pucker!
Drink about to the Constitution!
She perform'd some execution
Did some share of retribution
For the insults of the year
When she took the Guerriere.
May success again await her,
Let who will again command her
Bainbridge, Rodgers, or Decatur ‑‑
Nothing like her can withstand
her,
With a crew, like that on board
her
And so boldly call'd "to
order"
One bold crew of English sailors,
Long, too long our seamen's
jailers,
Dacres and the Guerriere!
‑‑
Philip Freneau
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The Captain’s Clerk |