The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 57

They said to c.o.c.kburn, "honest c.o.c.k!

To make a noise and give a shock Push off, and burn their navy dock:

"Their capitol shall be emblazed!

How will the buckskins stand amazed, And curse the day its walls were raised!"

Six thousand heroes disembark-- Each left at night his floating ark And Washington was made their mark.

That few would fight them--few or none-- Was by their leaders clearly shown-- And "down," they said, "with Madison!"

How close they crept along the sh.o.r.e!

As closely as if Rodgers saw her-- A frigate to a seventy-four.

A veteran host, by veterans led, With Ross and c.o.c.kburn at their head-- They came--they saw--they burnt--and fled.

But not unpunish'd they retired; They something paid, for all they fired, In soldiers kill'd, and chiefs expired.

Five hundred veterans bit the dust, Who came, inflamed with lucre's l.u.s.t-- And so they waste--and so they must.

They left our congress naked walls-- Farewell to towers and capitols!

To lofty roofs and splendid halls!

To courtly domes and glittering things, To folly, that too near us clings, To courtiers who--tis well--had wings.

Farewell to all but glorious war, Which yet shall guard Potomac's sh.o.r.e, And honor lost, and fame restore.

To conquer armies in the field Was, once, the surest method held To make a hostile country yield.

The mode is this, now acted on; In conflagrating Washington, They held our independence gone!

Supposing George's house at Kew Were burnt, (as we intend to do,) Would that be burning England too?

Supposing, near the silver Thames We laid in ashes their saint James, Or Blenheim palace wrapt in flames;

Made Hampton Court to fire a prey, And meanly, then, to sneak away, And never ask them, what's to pay?

Would that be conquering London town?

Would that subvert the english throne, Or bring the royal system down?

With all their glare of guards or guns, How would they look like simpletons, And not at all the lion's sons!

Supposing, then, we take our turn And make it public law, to burn, Would not old english honor spurn

At such a mean insidious plan Which only suits some savage clan-- And surely not--the english man!

A doctrine has prevail'd too long; A king, they hold, can do no wrong-- Merely a pitch-fork, without p.r.o.ng:

But de'il may trust such doctrines, more,-- One king, that wrong'd us, long before, Has wrongs, by hundreds, yet in store.

He wrong'd us forty years ago; He wrongs us yet, we surely know; He'll wrong us till he gets a blow

That, with a vengeance, will repay The mischiefs we lament this day, This burning, d.a.m.n'd, infernal play;

Will send one city to the sky, Its buildings low and buildings high, And buildings--built the lord knows why;

Will give him an eternal check That breaks his heart or breaks his neck, And plants our standard on Quebec.

TO THE LAKE SQUADRONS[206]

The brilliant task to you a.s.sign'd Asks every effort of the mind, And every energy, combined, To crush the foe.

Sail where they will, you must be there; Lurk where they can, you will not spare The blast of death--but all things dare To bring them low.

To wield his thunders on Champlain, Macdonough leads his gallant train, And, his great object to sustain, Vermont unites

Her hardy youths and veterans bold From shelter'd vale and mountain cold, Who fought, to guard, in days of old Their country's rights.

That country's wrongs are all your own And to the world the word is gone-- Her independence must to none Be sign'd away.

Be to the nation's standard true, To Britain, and to Europe shew That you can fight and conquer too, And prostrate lay.

That bitter foe, whose thousands rise No more to fight us in disguise, But count our freedom for their prize, If valor fails:

Beneath your feet let fear be cast, Remember deeds of valor past, And nail your colors to the mast And spread your sails.

In all the pride and pomp of war Let thunders from the cannon roar, And lightnings flash from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, To wing the ball.

Let Huron from his slumbers wake, Bid Erie to his centre shake, Till, foundering in Ontario's lake, You swamp them all!

[206] This poem refers to the campaign during the late summer of 1814 against the English fleet on Lake Ontario and Lake Champlain.

THE BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN

September 11, 1814

Between the british squadron, of 93 guns and 1050 men, and the American fleet of 86 guns and 820 men. The Confiance, of 39 and the Saratoga, of 26 guns, were the flag ships of the two commanders, Downie and Macdonough.

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; Their object was, Ticonderogue.

a.s.sembled at Missisqui bay A feast they held, to hail the day, When all should bend to british sway From Plattsburg to Ticonderogue.