THE BANNER of Freedom high floated unfurled, | |
| While the silver-tipped surges in low homage curled, | |
| Flashing bright round the bow of Decatur’s brave bark, | |
| In contest, an “eagle”—in chasing a “lark.” | |
| The bold United States. | 5 |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| All canvas expanded to woo the coy gale, | |
| The ship cleared for action, in chase of a sail; | 10 |
| The foemen in view, every bosom beats high, | |
| All eager for conquest, or ready to die. | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | 15 |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| Now havoc stands ready with optics of flame, | |
| And battle-hounds “strain on the start” for the game; | |
| The blood demons rise on the surge for their prey, | |
| While Pity, rejected, awaits the dread fray. | 20 |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| The gay floating streamers of Britain appear, | 25 |
| Waving light on the breeze as the stranger we near; | |
| And now could the quick-sighted Yankee discern | |
| Macedonian, emblazoned at large on her stern. | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | 30 |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| She waited our approach, and the contest began, | |
| But to waste ammunition is no Yankee plan; | |
| In awful suspense every match was withheld, | 35 |
| While the bull-dogs of Britain incessantly yelled. | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | 40 |
| |
| Unawed by her thunders, alongside we came, | |
| While the foe seemed enwrapped in a mantle of flame; | |
| When, prompt to the word, such a flood we return, | |
| That Neptune aghast, thought his trident would burn. | |
| The bold United States, | 45 |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| Now the lightning of battle gleams horridly red, | |
| With a tempest of iron and hail-storm of lead; | 50 |
| And our fire on the foe we so copiously poured, | |
| His mizzen and topmasts soon went by the board. | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | 55 |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| So fierce and so bright did our flashes aspire, | |
| They thought that their cannon had set us on fire, | |
| “The Yankee’s in flames!—every British tar hears, | |
| And hails the false omen with three hearty cheers. | 60 |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| In seventeen minutes they found their mistake, | 65 |
| And were glad to surrender and fall in our wake; | |
| Her decks were with carnage and blood deluged o’er, | |
| Where welt’ring in blood lay an hundred and four. | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | 70 |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| But though she was made so completely a wreck, | |
| With blood they had scarcely encrimsoned our deck; | |
| Only five valiant Yankees in the contest were slain, | 75 |
| And our ship in five minutes was fitted again. | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | 80 |
| |
| Let Britain no longer lay claim to the seas, | |
| For the trident of Neptune is ours, if we please, | |
| While Hull and Decatur and Jones are our boast, | |
| We dare their whole navy to come on our coast. | |
| The bold United States, | 85 |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Will ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
| |
| Rise, tars of Columbia!—and share in the fame, | |
| Which gilds Hull’s, Decatur’s and Jones’s bright name; | 90 |
| Fill a bumper and drink, “Here’s success to the cause, | |
| But Decatur supremely deserves our applause.” | |
| The bold United States, | |
| Which four-and-forty rates, | |
| Shall ne’er be known to yield—be known to yield or fly, | 95 |
| Her motto is “Glory! we conquer or we die.” | |
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