’Twas but weak they thought to shield; They were sure it soon would yield; They had guns afloat before it, Ten to one; Yet long time their vessels lay Idly rocking in the bay, While the flag that floated o’er it Spread its colors in the sun. But at length toward the noon Of the twenty-eighth of June, We observed their force in motion On the shore; At the hour of half-past nine Saw their frigates form in line, Heard the krakens of the ocean Ope their mighty jaws and roar. On the decks we saw them stand, Lighted matches held in hand, Brawny sailors, stripped and ready For the word; Crawling to the royal’s head, Saw the signal rise and spread; And the order to be steady To the waiting crews we heard. Then the iron balls and fire, From the lips of cannon dire, In a blazing torrent pouring, Roaring came; And each dun and rolling cloud That arose the ships to shroud, Seemed a mist continual soaring From some cataract of flame. Moultrie eyed the _Bristol_ then— She was foremost of the ten— And these words, his eyes upon her, Left his lips: “Let them not esteem you boors; Show that gentle blood of yours; Pay the Admiral due honor, And the line-of-battle ships.” Back our balls in answer flew, Piercing plank and timbers through, Till the foe began to wonder At our might; While we laughed to hear the roar Flung by Echo from the shore; While we shouted to the thunder Grandly pealing through the fight. From Long Island Clinton came, To surmount the wall of flame That was built by Thomson’s rangers On the east; But he found a banquet spread Where, with open hand and red, Dangers bade the hostile strangers Bloody welcome to the feast. Moved their boats, with soldiers filled, Rowed by seamen picked and skilled, O’er the channel, urging proudly To attack; Stern and silently they moved, As became their courage proved, Though the rangers’ rifles, loudly Speaking peril, warned them back. Long the barges headway held, By the sinewy arms impelled Of the dauntless British seamen, Through the foam; Through the leaden death that came, Borne upon the wings of flame, From the rifled guns of freemen Fighting fiercely for their home. One by one the rowers dropped; Then their onward course was stopped— Death stood ready for the daring At the oar; Though in scorn they came at first, When the storm upon them burst They returned with humbler bearing To the safe and farther shore.