At Orleans--lo! a savage band, In countless numbers gain the strand, "Beauty and spoil" the word-- There Jackson with his fearless few, The invincibles by thousands slew, And dire destruction poured. O Britain! when the tale is told Of Jackson's deeds by fame enrolled, Should grief and madness rise, Remember God, the avenger, reigns, Who witnessed Havre's smoking plains, And Hampton's female cries. [Illustration] [Illustration] OLD IRONSIDES. BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. [This poem was inspired by the announcement that the frigate _Constitution_ was to be dismantled. Though written later it belongs among the poems of the War of 1812, as the _Constitution's_ fame was won in that war.--EDITOR.] Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has dimmed to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar;-- The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee;-- The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea! [Illustration] O better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms, The lightning and the gale! 1836. [Illustration: THE MEXICAN WAR] [Illustration] MONTEREY. BY CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. We were not many--we who stood Before the iron sleet that day: Yet many a gallant spirit would Give half his years if but he could Have with us been at Monterey. Now here, now there, the shot it hail'd In deadly drifts of fiery spray, Yet not a single soldier quail'd When wounded comrades round them wail'd Their dying shout at Monterey. And on--still on our column kept Through walls of flame its withering way Where fell the dead, the living stept, Still charging on the guns which swept The slippery streets of Monterey. The foe himself recoil'd aghast, When, striking where he strongest lay, We swoop'd his flanking batteries past, And braving full their murderous blast, Storm'd home the towers of Monterey. Our banners on those turrets wave, And there our evening bugles play: Where orange-boughs above their grave Keep green the memory of the brave Who fought and fell at Monterey.