"Then, traitor, come! your dark attack begin, Renown'd inventor of the black machine: But mark!--for when some future poet tells, Or some historian on the subject dwells, No word of praise shall meet the listening ear, Disgustful story, to repeat or hear-- Was you, an infant, to a mother press'd, Or did ferocious tigers give the breast-- Did nature in some angry moment plan Some fierce hyena to degrade the man? Resolve me quick, for doubtful while I stay These dark torpedoes may be on their way. Does nature thus her heaviest curse impart And will she give such countenance to art?-- She gave you all that rancor could bestow, She lent her magic from the world below; She gave you all that madness could propose, And all her malice in your bosom glows; She gave you sulphur, charcoal, nitre join'd: She gave you not--a great and generous mind." So spoke the knight, and slamm'd the door, And thus went on, with feelings sore: "I relish not torpedo war:-- Die when I will, or where I may, I would not choose so short a way: These twenty nights I did my best To shut my eyes, and take my rest, But drowsy Morpheus might as well Upon the main mast try his spell. No potion from the poppy's leaf Can close my lids;--and, to be brief, This Fulton, with his dashing plans, Distracts my head, my heart unmans: And, every night, I have my fears Of such infernal engineers; Who, when I sup, or could I sleep Might row their wherry through the deep, And screw their engine to the keel, And blow us--where there's no appeal; No question how, or where we died, But how we lived, and how applied The little sense our heads contain To save our souls, and live again. "They, who support torpedo plans Should have no plaudit for their pains; Should be employ'd on dark designs, Explorers of peruvian mines; Such have not felt the patriot glow, A feeling they could never know: For treasons they were surely made, Have princes slain and kings betray'd.-- Ye powers above! and must I wait Till these prevail in every state, Till pale disease, or shivering age Drives such false patriots from the stage! "The chaplain said he heard me snore, But many a fib he told before; And if I snored, I'm satisfied Twas when my eyes were open wide. "Torpedoes! who contrived the word? Torpedoes! worse than gun or sword! They are a mode of naval war We cannot have a relish for:-- In all the chronicles I read Of former times, they nothing said Of such a horrible machine That would disgrace an algerine, And only yankees would employ, Not to distress, but to destroy. "What human eye, without dismay Can see torpedo-lightning's play? What mortal heart, but dreads a foe That fights unseen from fields below!