For the sake of our country let’s conquer or die.
May our navy triumphant ride over the main,
And check the presumption of Gallia and Spain;
And, oh! may some hero rise ere ’tis too late,
Chastise insolent Jones, and revenge Farmer’s fate!
_THE BOLD BLADES OF OLD ENGLAND._
Come, rouse up, my lads, let us haste to the main,
And load home our chests with the dollars of Spain,
For as we have beat them we’ll do so again,
_And it’s, oh! the bold blades of Old England_!
They tell us that sixty fine ships of the line
Of France and of Spain in the ocean do shine;
But let them remember the year fifty-nine;
_They were banged by the blades, etc._
Those villains they thought some advantage to take
On America’s land, for to lessen her state;
But they quickly shall know it was all a mistake,
_Convinc’d by the blades, etc._
How proudly they came with a numerous host
To take, sink, and burn, and to land on our coast;
And when they had done nothing went home for to boast
_Afraid of the blades, etc._
Already we have some of their dollars to shew
At Liverpool, Guernsey, and London also,
And took one of their islands, call’d fam’d Omoa.
_Oh! the bold blades, etc._
Brave Rodney and Parker have done the thing well,
And altho’ their admirals made such a swell,
Will soon be sent home the news for to tell;
_They’ve been drub’d by the blades, etc._
Bold Rodney, we hear, is come up with a foe,
Took one man-of-war, and five frigates also,
With about eighteen transports, a very smart blow.
_Oh! the bold blades, etc._
Then come, my true Britons, and fill up the glass
To George and his navy; around let it pass,
And he that won’t pledge it proclaim him an ass;
_And it’s, oh! the bold blades, etc._
_THE ROYAL SAILOR._
The foes of Old England (France, Holland, and Spain),
Made bold by indulgence, insulted the main;
The flag of defiance together unfurl’d,
And at England, Old England, their vengence they hurl’d:
When Neptune arose from his watry throne;
In a coral [red] suit he most beautifully shone;
He call’d for his tritons, and bade them repair
To the Court of great George, for young William was there.
‘_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me
This isle to protect and reign prince of the sea._’
O’erjoy’d at the message, the youth rear’d his head.
‘I’ll fight like a prince,’ were the words that he said;
‘The cause of my country I’ll boldly espouse;
To the sea I’m wedded, and give her my vows.
With Rodney, with Digby, with Ross I will go,
And die, but I’ll conquer each insolent foe.’
The tritons reported the words that he said,
And Spain heard the plaudits by Neptune then paid:
‘_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me
Britain’s isle to protect and reign prince of the sea._’
The Dons they have felt the effects of his rage;
No more with blood royal they’ll dare to engage;
For he stood on the deck with his naked drawn sword,
And by the bold Digby he passed the word.
Humanity touch’d him, tho’ not with base fear,
When one noble ship was blown into the air.
His courage gave rapture to each jolly tar,
Who look on Prince William their bulwark in war.
_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen to be
The guard of this isle and the prince of the sea._
_HOOD’S CONQUEST OVER THE COUNT DE GRASSE._
Come, all you jovial sailors, give ear unto my song;
Let joy inspire your hearts while glory leads you on.
The Count de Grasse with all his fleet has threatened us full sore
That with his great armada he’d scour the British shore,
Our ships he’d sink, our islands take all under his command;
But the courage of bold Britons has stopt his warlike hand.
The proud and lofty hero in Port Royal harbour lay,
And on the eighth of April from thence he sail’d away,
And with his floating batteries, in all just thirty-three,
A large convoy of transports to bear him company;
With troops and ammunition, as plainly does appear,
For to besiege Jamaica his course he strait did steer.
He thought this great attempt was very bold indeed,
But now I will unfold to you how far he did succeed.
For Hood soon had tidings the birds had took their flight
That he with so much diligence had watch’d both day and night;
Then with the gallant British fleet we sail’d from St. Lucia,
Resolving the destruction of the daring enemy.
It was on the ninth of April, just at the break of day,
We spy’d these lofty Frenchmen at Dominica lay.
There being but little wind, and they to windward were,
In spite of our best efforts their convoy did get clear.
The squadron under gallant Hood receiv’d a gallant breeze,
To bring the French to action the present moment seiz’d;
The whole French fleet we did engage full eight glasses or more,
And with our little squadron we well paid their score;
And like undaunted Britons each man stood to his gun,
Altho’ the French at times were nearly two to one.
The rest of our fleet coming up, on them began to play,
Which made them to haul their wind, like cowards run away.
Those cowards then to windward three days we did pursue,
Until the twelfth of April the glorious fight renew’d;
The wind did seem to favour us, our fleet hove in a line,
And for to close our enemy it was our whole design.
Bold Drake led the van, and fully bent was he
To die or else to conquer the daring enemy.
The action it commenced from the van unto the rear,
And we brake their line of battle amidst the smoke of fire.
Their _Glory_ was dismasted, our shot so well we plied,
While fury round the enemy did rage on every side.
So closely we pursued them they knew not where to run
To shelter their disabled ships from the fire of English guns.
From morning until evening the battle we maintain’d.
The sea on every side of us seem’d to be in a flame.
The lofty _City of Paris_ and haughty Count de Grasse,
The one we took a pris’ner, the other laid avast.
What joy inspir’d each Briton’s heart, when the action it did close,
To see the lilly of France strike to the English rose.
Now the lofty _Ville de Paris_ to Lewis is no more;
Behold, she trims her lofty sails to deck Britannia’s shore,
With three more of their lofty ships to bear her company,
And two, to make the fight compleat, lay buried in the sea.
So now bold Lewis think no more bold Britons to ensnare:
Our English tars will curb your pride; your boasting we don’t fear.
So, Britons, now join chorus and sound our admiral’s praise,
Brave gallant Hood, and Drake, the terror of the seas,
All captains and lieutenants that fought with courage great,
All officers and seamen throughout the British fleet,
For we have and will still beat them; so, Britons bold, advance
To curb the boasting insults of proud and haughty France.
_THE LOSS OF THE CENTAUR._
Ye landsmen all, I pray attend, who live at home at ease,
To these lines that I’ve penn’d upon the dangers of the seas;
Likewise the loss of the _Centaur_, a gallant man-of-war,
Britons, weep, in the deep lies many a gallant tar.
This ship set sail from England, was to the Indies bound,
But at her returning was wind and weather bound;
Such dreadful storms arising, her rigging tore away,
And, alas! all her masts went overboard straightway.
In this dreadful situation she was drove up and down;
Full three weeks she floated; no assistance could be found;
Her guns were all thrown over to lighten her the more:
Night and day they did pray to have a sight of shore.
But, to add to their sorrow, another storm arose,
And to the dreadful seas, poor souls, they were expos’d;
At last they found her sinking; the air was rent with cries,
Dismal sound, she went down, never more to rise.
But as she was sinking two boats were hoisted out,
And some, who got on board them, were sadly tost about;
And one being overloaded, she sunk and went down.
Waves beat high, no ship nigh, so that all on board were drown’d.
The captain and twelve sailors were all who did survive,
And out of several hundreds these few were left alive,
Tho’ they were almost perish’d with hunger and fatigues,
No delay, for night and day they did row many leagues.
Only three days’ provisions, which they made last for nine,
And in this low condition of land could see no sign;
Full sixteen days drove up and down before they reached the land,
Such a sight was a fright, so weak they could not stand.
Ye landsmen, take compassion on those that plough the main,
For the honour of the nation, its rights for to maintain.
How they’re exposed to danger these lines do plainly show;
We [im]plore that no more may such hardships ever know.
_A NEW SEA SONG CALLED THE ROBIN HOOD._
Come, all ye young seamen that plow on the main,
Oh! have you not heard of the valiant ship of fame?
Her name it is the _Robin Hood_, as you have been told;
She’s commanded by Little-John, of courage so bold.
I’ll tell you of a fight, boys, and how it did begin.
It was in Gibraltar Gut, which is near unto Apes Hill;
It was three privateers that belonged unto Spain,
Who thought our British courage for to stain.
I’ll tell you, brother sailors: it was on a calm day,
Then one of the privateers they boarded us straightway:
They hove in their powder flasks and their stink-pots,
But we repaid them with our small shot.
They being in number three hundred and more,
And is not equal, you’ll say, unto threescore:
But now I will tell you the courage of our men,
That we valu’d them not, if they had been ten.
Our small arms did rattle, and our great guns did roar,
Till one of them we sunk, and the other run ashore;
Such a slaughter we made as you seldom shall see,
Till an hundred and eighty we drown’d in the sea.
Our fight being over, and our fray being done,
And every man then scowering his gun,
And every man to a full flowing bowl;
Here’s a health to all British loyal souls.
There’s one thing more does trouble our mind;
It’s for to leave our chief mate, that noble soul, behind,
But he being wounded most desperate sore,
We were forced for to leave him at Gibraltar.
But now, my brave boys, we are plowing of the main,
In spite of our enemies France or Spain:
It’s all for to gain both honour and gold,
And we’ll let them know Little-John won’t be control’d.
My name is George Cook, the author of this,
And he may be hang’d that will take it amiss.
_A NEW SONG ON THE BATTLE FOUGHT ON THE 18th JUNE, 1793._
Between the _La Nymphe_ Frigate, of thirty-six twelve-pounders,
commanded by Captain Pellew, and the _Cleopatra_, a French Ship of
forty eighteen-pounders, commanded by Monsieur Jean Mullon, with 350
men.
Come, all you British heroes, listen to what I say;
’Tis of a noble battle that was fought the other day;
And such a sharp engagement we hardly ever knew:
Our officers were valiant and our sailors so true.
The _La Nymphe_ was our frigate, and she carried a valiant crew,
With thirty-six twelve-pounders, that made the French to rue.
At daylight in the morning the French hove in sight;
Captain Pellew he commanded us in this fight.
Full forty eighteen-pounders we had for to engage;
The French they thought to confound us, they seemed so much enrag’d.
Our captain cry’d, ‘Be steady, boys, and well supply each gun;
We’ll take this haughty Frenchman, or force her for to run.’
The action then began, my boys, [with] shot on every side;
They thought her weight of metal would soon subdue our pride.
I think the second broadside her captain he was slain,
And many a valiant Frenchman upon the decks were lain.
We fought on with such fury, made every shot to tell,
And thirteen brave seamen in our ship there fell,
Tho’ forty-five minutes was the time this fight did last,
The French ship lost her tiller and likewise her mizen mast.
Then yard arm and yard arm we by each other lay,
And sure such noble courage to each other did display;
We form’d a resolution to give the French a check,
And instantly we boarded her off the quarter-deck.
Her colours being struck, my boys, she then became our prize,
And our young ship’s company subdued our enemies,
Altho’ they were superior in metal and in men.
Of such engagement you may seldom hear again.
And now in Portsmouth Harbour our prize is safely moor’d.
Success to all brave sailors that enter now on board;
A health to Captain Pellew, and all his sailors bold,
Who value more their honour than misers do their gold.
_THE DOWNFALL OF THE FRENCH FLEET._
The 28th of May the French fleet hove in sight.
Lord Howe he made a signal; resolv’d he was to fight.
Then his ships in a line he drew,
And cannon balls straight at them flew,
Resolv’d the French dogs to subdue,
_Like brave British boys_.
On the 29th again our ships in line we drew;
Resolv’d was each man the action to renew.
Admiral Gardiner then the line he broke,
Which in our favour spoke,
Crying, ‘Monsieur, we will make you smoke,
_Like true British boys_.’
At last the glorious day, call’d the first of June--
So well I do remember, it was about noon--
We to windward of them lay,
And down to them we bore away,
Resolv’d our courage to display,
_Like brave British boys_.
And then the bold _Brunswick_ for honour she did try,
Alongside the _Vengeur_ two hours she did lie,
Brave Captain Harvey he did cry,
‘My lads, we have orders to comply;
We’ll make her strike or else we’ll die
_Like brave Brunswick boys_.’
Our officers and our ship’s crew so well did play their part
Nine shot from our guns in her copper we did dart,
Till down her colours she did haul,
And to be boarded aloud did bawl,
Crying out, ‘Monsieur, we’ll sink you all,’
_Say the brave Brunswick boys_.
Another on our larboard side to board us she came,
And to put us all to death, the _America_ by name;
But with our skill we all did try,
And three broadsides at her let fly,
And her three masts on board did lie,
_By the brave Brunswick boys_.
Success to Lord Howe, and all his noble fleet;
Such a set of fighting fellows together ne’er did meet.
May they together still remain,
And brave Lord Howe still rule the main
For to subdue Monsieur again,
_Like brave British boys_.
Success to King George, likewise our royal Queen,
And may they be happy throughout their glorious reign,
And may God forget them quite,
That will not go and fight,
For to maintain great George’s right,
_Like brave British boys_.
_A NEW SONG ON THE SEA ENGAGEMENT FOUGHT THE FIRST OF JUNE LAST_,
When Lord Howe beat the French fleet, and took seven of their Ships,
viz. _La Juste_, _Sans Pareille_, both of 80 guns, _L’America_,
_L’Achille_, _Northumberland_, _L’Impétueux_, and the _Vengeur_, all
74-gun ships, but the _Vengeur_ sunk very soon after she was taken.
Printed in June 1794.
Come, all ye British hearts of gold,
A glorious tale I will unfold
Of Howe, who fought the French so bold,
On board the _Queen Charlotte_.
On June the first this fight began:
Our admiral he led the van;
Our shot did play so hot that day
The French they try’d to run away,
But Howe took care they should not.
The _Charlotte_, with Lord Howe therein,
This fierce encounter did begin,
[And] bravely threw her [broadside] in
Against the French commander,
Who found it so hot that day
That no longer there could stay,
But, crouding sail, he bore away;
He was no salamander.
They left us seven ships that day,
So crippl’d, could not get away;
Like logs they on the sea did lay,
So hot was their reception.
Two of them carried eighty guns,
Five seventy-fours were noble ones.
Huzza! huzza! their admiral runs;
He could get no redemption.
Bravo Bowyer, Pasley, Captain Hutt,
Each lost a leg, being sorely hurt;
Their lives they valu’d but as dirt,
When that their country call’d them.
Poor Montague was kill’d that day;
’Twas by their shot, which fierce did play
Before the French they ran away,
When we so sorely maul’d them.
Of French ships there were twenty-six
When first upon them we did fix.
We valu’d not their Gallic tricks,
We had but twenty-five sail;
We being British sailors bold,
Who value honour more than gold,
Our courage has been try’d of old,
We ever will prevail.
So since these French ships are brought in,
In honour of great George, our King,
In praise of sailors let us sing,
And drink to each brave tar, sir;
For they are lads to win the day,
And drive the boasting French away;
To face our shot they will not stay,
Our fame is heard afar, sir.
_A NEW SEA SONG._
Written by a lieutenant of the _Bellerophon_, the flag ship of
Rear-Admiral Pasley.
The First Part of it was written after the action on the 29th of May,
and was sung in full chorus in the wardroom of that ship on the evening
of the 31st May, the night previous to the battle, which ended so
gloriously for the British Arms.
The Second Part was added immediately after that great event.
To the Tune of _I was, d’ye see? a Waterman_.
’Twas on the twenty-eighth of May, the morning being clear,
A fleet to windward we espy’d; they Frenchmen did appear.
The signal for the same being made, the chace was soon begun;
And then for battle we prepar’d, to shew monsieurs some fun.
Our ship being clear’d, the foe we near’d, with expectations high,
That we should show the murd’rous foe, that British courage still
would flow,
_To make them strike or die_.
The fam’d _Bellerophon_ began her cannons first to play
Upon a three-deck’d ship of theirs, which could not run away:
Our hearts of gold their shot well told, in show’rs about her side,
‘Till the _Leviathan_ came up, the battle to divide;
Then seeing plain ’twas quite in vain the contest more to try,
She struck; and this does shew that British courage still will flow,
_To make them strike or die_.
Night coming on, the battle ceas’d, till Phœbus rose again,
When we beheld this trait’rous fleet still vaunting on the main;
Our line being form’d, and all hearts warm’d, the fight was soon
renew’d;
Determined to hand down that flag, which with contempt we view’d.
Lord Howe engaged their hottest rage; he broke their line to try
If such manœuvres would not shew that British courage still would
flow,
_To make them strike or die_.
The battle warmly was maintain’d, much valour was display’d,
Till night, with all her sable train, the action still delay’d.
Now since again all o’er the main these rebels can’t be found
We’ll toast our admirals in our glass; our girls, too, shall go
round.
Each heart shall sing, ‘Long Live the King!’ and each again reply.
‘If e’er we’re call’d again we’ll shew that British courage still
shall flow,
_To make them strike or die_.’
PART II.
We anxiously the Frenchmen sought for two days o’er the main,
And on the first of June we brought those rebels to again.
Lord Howe the signal made for each his opposite to take,
Not doubting then that such brave men would soon a conquest make.
The fight began, and ev’ry man his utmost power did try
To make these traitors feel and know that British courage still
would flow,
_To make them strike or die_.
Two hours or more this battle was with matchless warmth maintain’d,
When Providence smil’d on our cause and vict’ry for us gain’d.
Though at one time three of the line upon our ship did fall
Yet we so well our shot did tell that we beat off them all.
The masts of one were soon brought down, and she a log did lie,
To make these ‘sans-culottes’ all know that British courage still
shall flow,
_To make them strike or die_.
Our gallant chief commander too, by three was clos’d around;
He fought so bravely that the foe was forc’d to quit his ground.
Now nine or ten upon the main dismasted wrecks they lay;
And all the rest got so well drest they did not chuse to stay.
Thus o’er the main being left to reign, to England soon we’ll hie
With all our prizes, which will shew that British courage still
will flow,
_To make them strike or die_.
But one small tribute let me pay, which justice does demand,
To Admiral Pasley, who this day was ta’en from his command.
One wicked shot, which they had got, his leg did sever soon,
Which robb’d the van of this brave man long e’er the fight was done.
Yet ’midst such play he’d smile and say, ‘Fight on, my lads, and try
To make these rebel Frenchmen know that British courage still will
flow,
_To make them strike or die_.’
My shipmates, now let’s celebrate a day of great renown,
Which will this victory relate to ages yet unknown.
Come, let us raise our voice to praise the gallant name of Howe,
Who by this check the stubborn neck of France has made to bow.
May peace again, and all her train, with blessings from on high,
Shine on our Isle! then all shall know that Britons will such
courage shew,
_To make them strike or die_.
God Save the King!
_THE BLANCHE FRIGATE._
You Frenchmen, don’t boast of your fighting, nor talk of great
deeds, ’tis in vain;
Do you think that Old England you’ll frighten as easy as Holland
and Spain?
We listen and laugh while you threaten, your boasting the valour of
France,
Since your frigate _Le Pique_ has been beaten by the jolly brave
tars of the _Blanche_.
She sail’d from the bay of Point Petre, four hundred and fifty on
board,
And we were all ready to meet her: to conquer or die was the word!
The cans of good liquor were flowing, we gave them three cheers to
advance,
And courage in each heart was glowing, for cowards ne’er sail’d in
the _Blanche_.
The night then upon us declining, the moon did afford us a light,
Each star with fresh lustre was shining, to keep the French frigate
in sight.
The breeze gently filled all our sails, our ship through the water
did launch,
And the grog flew in bumpers and pails amongst the brave tars in
the _Blanche_.
At midnight we came alongside, each ship being prepared for the
fight;
‘Huzza!’ then bold Faulkner he cried, ‘we’ll conquer or perish this
night’;
So they gave us a broadside to try our courage and found us all
staunch,
Not a man there but rather would die, than cowardly yield up the
_Blanche_.
The fight made the sea seem on fire; each bullet destructively flew.
Britannia her sons did inspire with courage that damp’d the French
crew,
Saying, ‘Cowards, you surely must die, for over you Death turns his
lance,’
While our balls repeat as they fly, ‘Fight on, my brave tars of the
_Blanche_.’
Our mainmast and mizen being gone the Frenchmen they thought us
their own,
And with ‘Vive la République!’ their song we thought they would
never have done.
We joined in their song undismayed, with music that made them all
dance,
And not a false note was there played by the harmonious tars of the
_Blanche_.
When Faulkner resigned his last breath each tar gave a tear and a
sigh,
Such sorrow was found at his death, but we’ll soon be revenged was
the cry,
But, like Wolfe, with victory crowned, at his death he said ‘Ne’er
mind my chance;
Fight on, my brave boys, or be drowned on board of our frigate the
_Blanche_.’
Bold Watkins his place soon supplied, and like a bold Hector engaged
His guns with more judgment to guide, for the death of his captain
enraged;
And who could our fury allay when _Le Pique_ alongside did advance?
The masts being all shot away we grappled her close to the _Blanche_.
They thought it in vain to withstand; they called out for quarter
amain.
Although the advantage they had still Britons were lords of the main.
So push the grog round, let it pass, since they found us
true-hearted and staunch;
Every lad with his favourite lass drink success to the tars of the
_Blanche_.
_THE AMAZON FRIGATE._
Come, all you British seamen bold, that plow the raging main,
Come, listen to my tragedy while I relate the same;
’Tis what we underwent all on the raging main.
Bold Reynolds was our commander in the ship called the _Amazon_.
On the 30th of December in Falmouth as we lay
Our orders came on board our anchors for to weigh;
So ‘Heave away!’ our captain cried; ‘we have no time to spare:
We’ll set our canvas to the breeze and through the ocean steer.’
Our anchors weigh’d, our sails were set, our ship she seemed to fly;
It was the _Indefatigable_ that bore us company.
We must bid adieu to our sweethearts because we must cross the main,
Hoping in a short time after to see them all again.
We steered our course to the southward as far as Cape Finisterre,
Cruising the seas for several days and nothing could [find there],
Till, running down the coast of Spain, three merchantmen we took,
And sent them home to England while we for more did look.
But in bearing up for England an American ship we see,
That gave us good intelligence the French was at sea.
The weather it was thick, and, under an easy sail,
The wind it blew north-north-east and it blew a briskish gale.
On the 28th of January a man sung from aloft
That he spy’d a lofty man-of-war at a distance three leagues off.
She’s a very lofty ship, the truth we will declare;
She crowded all sails she could, expecting to get clear.
But we were at the heels of her, and night coming on,
At six o’clock that very night the bloody fight begun.
With broadside to broadside we play’d them two to one,
Till the blood out of the scupper holes all in a gore did run.