By land and by water how many have fail'd In attacking an enemy's town, But britons they tell us, have always prevail'd Wherever they march'd, or wherever they sail'd, To honor his majesty's sceptre and crown: Wherever they went, with the trumpet and drum, And the dregs of the world, and the dirt, and the scum, As soon as the music begun, The colors were struck, and surrender'd the town When the summons was given of down, down, down! But fortune, so fickle, is turning her tide, And safe is old Baltimore town, Though Cockburn and Cochrane, with Ross at their side, The sons of Columbia despised and defy'd, And determined to batter it down; Rebuff'd and repulsed in disgrace they withdrew, With their down, down, down, and their rat-tat-too, As well as the times would allow: And the sight, we expect, will be not very new When they meet us again, with our tow-row-dow. [209] After the burning of Washington the British fleet and army concentrated upon Baltimore. Here they met a stubborn resistance and were at length beaten off. It was during the bombardment of Fort McHenry near the city that Francis Scott Key composed the patriotic song "The Star Spangled Banner." ON THE BRITISH BLOCKADE And Expected Attack on New York, 1814 Old Neversink,[A] with bonnet blue, The present times may surely rue When told what England means to do: [A] The highlands, a little southward of Sandy Hook; being a tract of bold high country, several thousand acres in extent; to the southward of which there is no land that may be termed mountainous, on the whole coast of the United States to Cape Florida. The real aboriginal name of this remarkable promontory was Navesink, since corrupted into Neversink.--_Freneau's note._ Where from the deep his head he rears The din of war salutes his ears, That teazed him not for thirty years. He eastward looks toward the main To see a noisy naval train Invest his bay, our fleets detain. What can be done in such a case?-- His rugged heights the blast must face, The storm that menaces the place. With tents I see his mountain spread, The soldier to the summit led, And cannon planted on his head: From Shrewsbury beach to Sandy Hook The country has a martial look, And quakers skulk in every nook.-- What shall be done in such a case?-- We ask again with woful face To save the trade and guard the place? Where mounted guns the porte secure, The cannon at the embrasure, Will british fleets attempt to moor? Perhaps they may--and make a dash, To fill their pockets with our cash-- Their dealings now are rather harsh. They menace to assail the coast With such a fleet and such a host As may devour us--boil'd or roast. Their feelings are alive and sore For what they got at Baltimore, When, with disgrace, they left the shore,