What, fight alone! bold Hillyer said-- I will not fight without my Aid-- The Cherub is for war array'd, And she must do her share! Now Porter saw their dastard plan-- To fight them both was surely vain; We should have thought a man insane That would so madly dare. Then, hands on deck! the anchors weigh! --And for the sea he left the bay, A running fight to have that day, And thus escape his foes. But oh!--distressing to relate-- As round a point of land he beat A squall from hell the ship beset, And her maintopmast goes! Unable to attain that end, He turns toward the neutral friend, And hoped protection they might lend, But no protection found. In this distress, the foe advanced-- With such an eye at Essex glanced! And such a fire of death commenced As dealt destruction round! With every shot they raked the deck, Till mingled ruin seized the wreck: No valor could the ardor check Of England's martial tars! One hundred men the Essex lost: But Phoebe found, and to her cost, That Porter made them many a ghost To serve in Satan's wars. Oh, clouded scene!--yet must I tell Columbia's flag, indignant, fell-- To Essex, now, we bid farewell; She wears the english flag! But Yankees she has none on board To point the gun or wield the sword; And though commanded by a lord They'll have no cause to brag. THE TERRIFIC TORPEDOES[201] OR SIR THOMAS HARDY'S SOLILOQUY. "Then traitor come! as black revenge excites, Extinguish all our claims with all my lights! But keen remorse, which vengeful furies lead, Will act her part for this inhuman deed. How will her vultures on your vitals prey! How will her stings our every death repay!-- O nature! is all sympathy a jest; Art thou a stranger to the human breast? Has manly prowess quit the abandon'd stage, Are midnight plots the order of the age? "Where proud New-London holds her flaming guide To steer Decatur through the darksome tide, I stay too long! what station can I find To shake distraction from a tortured mind!