Not Parker, when departing thence So shatter'd--at the king's expense-- Was so provoked at the defence, Felt so chagrined, As did our chief (no captain Brag) When he perceiv'd some worthless wag Had stolen away the brandy keg-- Ah! loss indeed! For this, he swore he would resign, All future trust in man decline; Of whom, at least, there was one swine, They all agreed-- And cry'd "like hell his heart is black-- Pursue him, boys, and scent his track, If drunk or dead, we'll have him back, This man of scum!" Each took his mark, and hit a tree; The battle's done!--all sober, we; Huzza! we have the victory! Then scamper'd home! RETALIATION A Marine Ode--1814 "Ye powers who rule the western gale Not for the golden fleece we sail, Nor yet on wild ambition's plan, But vengeance gathers man with man. For wrongs which wearied patience bore, For slighted rules of legal war, We rear our flag, our sails display, And east north east explore our way. Let some assert, ten thousand pounds Would place our fleet on british grounds, And urge us onward to saint James To wrap his palaces in flames. A motive of so mean a cast Allures no mind, excites no breast; From such reward we loathing turn And would at such a proffer spurn. No--to retaliate on the foe, Free-will'd, we independent go, Our ship well mann'd, in war's attire, To light the skies with english fire. November comes! tis time to sail, The nights are long and brisk the gale, And England, soon, the odds may prove Between our hatred and our love." ON THE LAUNCHING Of the Seventy-four Gun Ship _Independence_,[211] at Charlestown, near Boston Our trade to restore as it stood once before We have launched a new ship from the stocks, Her rate is our first, and her force will, we trust, Be sufficient to humble the hawks; The hawks of old England we mean, don't mistake, Some harpies of England our prizes we'll make. Independence her name, independent our minds, And prepared for the toils of the sea, We are ready to combat the waves and the winds, And fight till the ocean is free: Then, away to your stations, each man on our list Who, when danger approaches, will never be miss'd. In asserting our rights we have rather been slow And patient till patience was tired; We were plunder'd and press'd ere we ventur'd a blow Till the world at our patience admired, And language was held, of contempt and disgrace, And Europe mis-call'd us a pitiful race. Twas time to arise in the strength of our might When Madison publish'd the war, And many have thought that he would have been right Had he published it three years before; While France was unpester'd with traitors and knaves, Nor Europe polluted with Wellington's slaves.