 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
UNITED STATES AND MACEDONIAN.
The banner of Freedom high floated unfurled,
While the silver tipped surges in low homage curled,
Flashing bright round the bow of a ship under sail,
In fight, like the tempest—in speed, like the gale.
She bears our country's name,
She builds our country's fame,
The bold United States disdains to yield or fly;
Her motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
While the silver tipped surges in low homage curled,
Flashing bright round the bow of a ship under sail,
In fight, like the tempest—in speed, like the gale.
She bears our country's name,
She builds our country's fame,
The bold United States disdains to yield or fly;
Her motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
157
All canvass expanded the gale to embrace,
The ship cleared for action, still nearing the chase;
The foeman in view—every bosom beats high,
All eager for conquest, or ready to die.
Columbia's gallant tars,
Who sail beneath her stars,
Shall ne'er be known to yield—shall ne'er ignobly fly;
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
The ship cleared for action, still nearing the chase;
The foeman in view—every bosom beats high,
All eager for conquest, or ready to die.
Columbia's gallant tars,
Who sail beneath her stars,
Shall ne'er be known to yield—shall ne'er ignobly fly;
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
Still rapidly lessens the distance between,
Till the gay-floating streamers of Britain are seen;
Till our quick-sighted chief could with rapture espy,
The cross, like a meteor, gleaming on high.
To gild our country's name,
To rival Hull in fame,
The brave Decatur now resolves the fight to try—
His motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
Till the gay-floating streamers of Britain are seen;
Till our quick-sighted chief could with rapture espy,
The cross, like a meteor, gleaming on high.
To gild our country's name,
To rival Hull in fame,
The brave Decatur now resolves the fight to try—
His motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
Now Havoc stands ready with optics of flame,
And battle-hounds strain on the start for the game;
The blood-demons rise on the surge for their prey,
While Pity, dejected, awaits the dread fray.
But Freedom's gallant sons,
Now stationed at their guns,
Remember Freedom's wrongs, and smother Pity's sigh;
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
And battle-hounds strain on the start for the game;
The blood-demons rise on the surge for their prey,
While Pity, dejected, awaits the dread fray.
But Freedom's gallant sons,
Now stationed at their guns,
Remember Freedom's wrongs, and smother Pity's sigh;
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
158
Now the lightning of battle gleams horribly red
While a tempest of iron, and a hailstorm of lead,
Like a flood on the foe was so copiously poured,
That his mizzen and topmasts soon went by the board.
Still fight Columbia's tars
Beneath the stripes and stars,
For still their country's flag is proudly floating high,
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
While a tempest of iron, and a hailstorm of lead,
Like a flood on the foe was so copiously poured,
That his mizzen and topmasts soon went by the board.
Still fight Columbia's tars
Beneath the stripes and stars,
For still their country's flag is proudly floating high,
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
The contest continued with horrible roar,
The demons of vengeance still feasting on gore;
'Till more than a hundred of Britain's brave sons,
Lay bleeding on deck by the side of their guns:
When low the cross descends,
And quick the battle ends,
The Macedonian yields, her streamers kiss the wave;
Our motto is “Glory—we conquer to save.”
The demons of vengeance still feasting on gore;
'Till more than a hundred of Britain's brave sons,
Lay bleeding on deck by the side of their guns:
When low the cross descends,
And quick the battle ends,
The Macedonian yields, her streamers kiss the wave;
Our motto is “Glory—we conquer to save.”
Let Britain no longer lay claim to the seas,
For the trident of Neptune is ours if we please;
While Hull, and Decatur, and Jones are our boast,
In vain their huge navy may threaten our coast.
They gild Columbia's name,
They build Columbia's fame;
And to revenge our wrongs, to battle eager fly;
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
For the trident of Neptune is ours if we please;
While Hull, and Decatur, and Jones are our boast,
In vain their huge navy may threaten our coast.
They gild Columbia's name,
They build Columbia's fame;
And to revenge our wrongs, to battle eager fly;
Their motto is “Glory—we conquer or die.”
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |