[That] at eight o’clock that very night down came [her] mizen mast.
We engag’d them five glasses as close as we could lay,
While great guns, small arms, and cutlasses most sweetly they did
play.
The Frenchmen all for quarters aloud to us did cry;
Their colours struck, no more could fight for love or liberty.
But the remnant of their shattered crew they unto us tell
That out of fifteen hundred men eight hundred of them fell.
This ship was call’d the _Droits de l’Homme_; from Brest she lately
came,
With guns mounted ninety-eight on board and fifteen hundred men.
Her intention was Ireland her troops all there to land,
But bold Pellew and his ship’s crew did stop their warlike band.
Twas early the next morning the land it did appear,
And they were so disabled, from it they could not get clear;
And we were so disabled we could not veer or tack,
But down alongside our enemy we soon became a wreck.
So now the _Indefatigable_ is bound for England’s shore
To let our suffering country know the _Amazon’s_ no more.
Still, we’ll drink to George our King, we’ll convince him of the
same,
That British tars for evermore rule lords of the main.
_A NEW SONG (THE SEVENTEEN BRIGHT STARS)._
Come, all you bold Britons to the seas do belong,
Of the seventeen bright stars I will sing you a song.
On the 15th of April, at Spithead as we lay,
Lord Bridport he hove out a signal to weigh:
But we one and all refused to obey.
The reason unto you I now will relate:
We resolved to refuse the purser’s short weight;
Our humble petition to Lord Howe we sent,
That he to the Admiralty write to present
Our provisions and wages that they might augment.
But soon, to our grief, as you shall understand,
They refused to comply with our humble demand;
Although to the Army they granted more pay,
While we sons of Neptune neglected did lay.
But the 15th of April soon roused them straightway.
Then each son of Neptune took their oath without dread,
Until redress was obtained not to sail from Spithead;
Two tars from each ship of the line did appear
On board the _Queen Charlotte_ without dread or fear,
While the ships manned their yards with a thundering loud cheer.
Billy Pitt and Dundas soon heard of the news.
They fell in a rage, and the tars did abuse;
They sent for Lord Spencer and unto him did say:
‘For Portsmouth, my Lord, and make no delay,
For the mutinous tars refuse to obey.’
Lord Spencer unto us these words did express:
‘Your grievance, my lads, shall soon be redress;
Full provisions we have granted and a shilling a day.’
We trusted their honour, and our anchors did weigh,
But the wind coming west, at St. Helens we did lay.
Now Providence, resolved we should not be oppressed,
For a fortnight or more kept the wind at south-west;
During which time, to our great surprize,
The Act was not passed to grant us supplies,
But Bedford and Clarence did open our eyes.
When we found from their promise they meant for to run,
We resolved to force them before we had done.
When the signal was made for sea to repair,
We then did refuse with another loud cheer,
Which made our proud rulers to quake and to fear.
The murdering Colpoys, Vice-Admiral of the blue,
Gave order to fire on the _London_ ship’s crew;
While the enemy of Britain was ploughing the sea,
He, like a base coward, let them get away
When the French and their transports sailed for Bantry Bay.
But at length from our king Lord Howe he was sent
To redress our grievance to our full content;
We received the old hero with joy as our friend,
And the Act being passed we will cheerfully sing
‘Confusion to France and long live our King!’
Now, my brave boys, down Channel we steer
’Long with brave Bridport in search of Mounseer.
May Heaven but grant what we crave for a boon,
That these boasting invaders may out to us come,
And the tune that we will play them is the ‘First of June.’
So now I must finish these lines that I have penned.
I hope no true Briton at them may be offended,
But remember the 15th of April, I pray,
And our wives and children keep a holiday;
For what April began we finish in May.
Drink a health to Lord Howe in a full flowing glass,
Confusion to Pitt, likewise to Dundas.
The seventeen bright stars in a bumper shall roar,
Their praises shall sound from shore unto shore,
And they will never be forgot until Britain’s no more.
_THE GENIUS OF BRITAIN._
The Genius of Britain went hovering round,
For she fear’d that fair Freedom was fled;
But she found to her joy that she was not quite gone,
But remain’d with the fleet at Spithead.
Rejoic’d at the news, to the _Charlotte_ she flew,
Where fair Freedom she heard sat enthron’d:
They all man’d the yards as the goddess came [in],
For Britain and Freedom they own’d.
The fleet hail’d the goddess with three hearty cheers
As she stood on the _Charlotte’s_ gangway,
She drop’d a sad tear as she look’d on her sons
Who so long neglected had lay;
She was led to the cabin. Fair Freedom was there,
True Loyalty sat by her side;
Britannia sat down in a transport of joy:
‘All hail to my heroes!’ she cry’d.
Every ship in the line sent two seamen so brave,
Whom the goddess receiv’d with a smile:
They assured her that if they were treated like men
They would still guard her favourite isle.
‘Go on, my brave sons, in the steps you now tread,
Be virtue your guide and your guard,
And God, who rules over the land and the sea,
Will your honest endeavours reward.’
The Genius of Ireland came in with her harp,
She saluted fair Freedom with tears,
They man’d the yards to welcome her o’er,
And every ship gave three cheers.
Success to the seventeen united bright stars,
Let their praise echo round every shore,
And the fifteenth of April will ne’er be forgot
Till Britannia and Freedom’s no more.
_BRITISH TARS REWARDED._
The tars of Old England have long toil’d in vain,
From the time of King Charles down to the present reign;
But their royal master their wages doth raise,
So join, British sailors, in King George’s praise.
The fleet of Lord Bridport, the terror of France,
Petition’d the throne that their pay might advance.
Their petitions were granted, each grievance redress’d,
In the heart of each seaman great George he is bless’d.
No longer neglected, no longer forlorn,
Brave seamen will wander, dejected, our scorn;
Their petitions are granted, each grievance made known
Soon met with redress at the foot of the throne.
Cheer, cheer, British seamen, your sails now unfurl,
Against our proud foes soon defiance we’ll hurl;
Our toils are rewarded, advanc’d is our pay.
Success to those seamen who gain’d us the day!
Adieu, pretty Nancy of Portsmouth, adieu!
When your William is absent, I pray then be true.
To fight for our king and our country we go;
Our toils are rewarded, we’ll face the proud foe.
Farewell to our children; farewell, dearest wives!
We don’t leave you distress’d, tho’ we venture our lives:
Our pay is advanced, which you shall receive;
Then dry up each tear, girls, and cease for to grieve.
Then, my boys, hoist your sails, to Old England adieu,
No longer oppressed, to you we’ll prove true:
You shall find that a tar is both grateful and brave--
We’ll die, but our king and our country we’ll save.
Three cheers, lads! three cheers, lads! we lose sight of land.
In defence of our country we’ll join heart and hand;
And when we return, boys, we’ll drink, dance and sing
With wives and with sweethearts, so God save the King!
_A NEW SONG ON PARKER THE DELEGATE, HEAD OF THE MUTINY AT SHEERNESS._
To the Tune of _The Vicar of Bray_
I will not sing in Parker’s praise, disgraceful is the story,
Nor yet to seamen tune my lays, eclipsed is now their glory;
Fell Faction’s head they proudly rear ’gainst country and ’gainst
king, sir,
And on their land they now do try destruction for to bring, sir.
_Then Britons all, with one accord, fight for your
Constitution,
And let surrounding foes behold we want no revolution._
Parker the means has brought about our seamen to corrupt, sir,
And like a daring traitor bold, our trade doth interrupt, sir;
The ships at Sheerness rear the flag, the emblem of defiance,
With sorrow strikes us to reflect, on them we’ve no reliance.
_Then Britons all, etc._
An admiral he calls himself, takes a commander’s station,
On board the _Sandwich_ doth insult, and braves the English nation;
Gives law, dispenses life and death or punishment disgraceful,
And by his arbitrary deeds hath made himself most hateful.
_Then Britons all, etc._
A terror to each merchant ship, detains and doth them plunder,
And if they offer to sail by, his guns at them do thunder;
Whate’er he likes he from them takes, and should they dare refuse,
sir,
The captain’s ordered to be flogged, thus doth he them ill use, sir.
_Then Britons all, etc._
Five hundred pounds is the reward, the traitor to bring in, sir,
Who thus the bloody flag hath reared ’gainst country and ’gainst
king, sir;
Let’s hope the villain quickly will to punishment be brought, sir,
Who like a daring traitor bold his country’s ruin sought, sir.
_Then Britons all, with one accord, fight for your
Constitution,
And let surrounding foes behold we want no revolution._
_THE DEATH OF PARKER._
Ye gods above, protect a widow! and with pity look on me.
Help, O help me out of trouble, out of sad calamity!
It was by the death of Parker fortune prov’d to me unkind;
And though hung for mutiny, worse than he were left behind.
Parker was my lawful husband, my bosom friend, whom I loved dear;
Yet at the time he was to suffer, alas! I could not him get near!
Again I ask’d, again I tried them--three times o’er and o’er, in
vain;
They still that one request denied me, and ordered me on shore again.
The yellow flag I thought was flying, a signal for my love to die;
The gun they fired, as was required, to hang him on the yard-arm
high.
The boatswain did his best endeavour, and I on shore was sent
straightway,
Where I stood watching, like a mermaid, to take my husband’s corpse
away.
At dead of night, when all was silent and many thousands fast asleep,
I, by two female friends attended, into the burying ground did creep.
Our trembling hands did serve as shovels with which the mould we
moved away,
And then the body of my husband carried off without delay.
A mourning coach for him was waiting: we drove to London with all
speed,
Where decently I had him buried and a sermon o’er him said.
And now his sorrows are all over, and he’s free from guilt and pain;
I hope in heaven his soul is shining, where I shall meet with him
again.
Farewell, Parker, thou bright angel! once thou wert the Navy’s pride;
Since we did not die together, separate we must abide.
I must wait awhile with patience; on earth I hope not long to stay,
When we shall meet once more in glory, and all our sins be wash’d
away.
_A NEW SONG IN PRAISE OF ADMIRAL DUNCAN._
By J. PRAT.
Tune _Arethusa_
To tame the Dutch, our treacherous foes,
And give Mynheers a bloody nose,
Brave Duncan to the Texel goes,
Expecting they would meet him.
Many boisterous nights and days
We roll’d upon the raging seas,
Enduring hardships various ways;
Wind and cold, in storms we roll’d,
Yet our tars and admirals bold
Resolved they would beat them.
No toils nor storms the Dutch endure,
But snug at home they sleep secure,
And judge it safe not to unmoor
While Duncan keeps his station.
When our brave Admiral saw their plan,
He said, ‘We’ll ’tice them if we can:
Let it be known that we are gone
To Yarmouth Roads to take on board
Fresh wholesome stores our isles afford--
They’ll credit the relation.’
Then we bore off for England’s shore,
And moored in Yarmouth Roads once more.
Our anchors soon the deep explore;
We quickly were refitted.
Our Admiral soon a signal ’spies:
‘Prepare, my lads!’ he loudly cries;
‘The proud Mynheer from the Texel steers;
Our anchors weigh--make no delay,
We’ll shew our cowardly enemy
’Tis in vain for to escape us.’
The shore we clear’d, and off we steer’d,
And soon in sight the Dutch appear’d;
The signal rose, the sailors cheer’d,
And quickly rang’d for battle.
All hands then to their quarters run,
Each tar with courage seiz’d his gun;
At twelve the bloody fight begun,
At every fire our foes expire;
We drubbed them to our heart’s desire:
God prosper British sailors!
Dutch ships eleven with fire and rage
Did fiercely three of ours engage,
But we their fury did assuage
And made them to surrender:
De Winter haul’d his colours down,
And their vice-admiral soon did own
That victory British tars must crown;
Of eleven more that struck, but four
Escap’d to tell their friends on shore
That all the rest were taken.
On board the _Ardent_, known so well,
Brave Captain Burgess boldly fell;
His loss we mourn, but fame shall tell
His worth to future ages.
Our efforts they could not evade,
Two admirals we prisoners made;
Ships of the line we captured nine:
In a battered state the rest retreat,
To weep at home their sad defeat
On the glorious eleventh of October.
Let every loyal Briton sing
God save great George our King!
And in her train may Victory bring
Long peace unto our nation;
To Duncan and his tars success,
Who did the Dutch so warmly dress;
And Vincent bold, who Spain controul’d;
With Home also, who aim’d a blow
That brought the fleet of Gallia low.
Success to all true Britons!
_A NEW SONG ON THE ENGAGEMENT FOUGHT BETWEEN THE MARS AND LA HERCULE_
[_sic_] _APRIL 21, 1798._
Bright honor now calls--each true Briton attend
Unto these few lines which here I have penn’d.
I sing of a battle that was fought at sea,
The _Mars_ was the British, the French ship _Herculé_.
CHORUS.
Then fill up a glass to each tar stout and good,
Success to each seaman--a tear for brave Hood.
We were cruising off Brest when the French we did spy:
We quickly gave chase, but they from us did fly;
We crouded each sail and gave them a broadside,
Fought them more than two hours and lower’d their pride.
We brought her to England, the flower of France--
Thus, thus may we serve all who dare to advance.
She’s been built but six weeks, and her guns were fourscore,
Whilst the brave little _Mars_ carry’d seventy-four.
Yet see, see Britannia with sorrow is fill’d,
For brave Captain Hood in the action was kill’d;
Likewise the Marines lost their captain so bold,
His name it was White, worth his full weight in gold.
The French lost three hundred, and we lost threescore,
In kill’d and in wounded. Thank God ’twas no more!
Here’s a health to the crew of the brave jolly _Mars_,
With another full bumper to all jolly tars.
_VERSES WRITTEN ON BOARD HIS MAJESTY’S SHIP THE ASTRÆA, BY THE YOUNGER
MIDSHIPMEN OF THAT FRIGATE, 1798._
When in the cockpit all was dim,
And not a mid dared show his glim,
A youth was left alone.
He scratched his head, surveyed his clothes,
Then took the other cheering dose,
And thus began his moan:--
‘Ah! Cursed be that fatal day
When I from home was led astray,
In this damned place to dwell:
Oh! had I in the country stay’d
I might have learnt some useful trade
And scorn’d the white lapelle.
‘When first on board the ship I went,
My belly full, my mind content,--
No sorrows touched my heart:
I view’d my coat, so flash and new,
My gay cockade, my hanger too,
And thought them wondrous smart.
‘But now, alas! my coat is rent;
My hanger’s pawned; my money spent;
My former friends I’ve missed;
And when of hardships I complain,
My messmates swear ’tis all in vain,
And cry “What made you list?”
‘But hark! I hear the corp’ral’s tread:
Another dose, and then to bed,
Of every joy bereft:
I shake my bottle with a doubt;
My poor half-pint is quite drained out,
Not one kind drop is left.’
The youth with indignation burns,
Into his hated hammock turns;
Alas! not long to sleep:
The quartermaster, with hoarse tongue,
Awakes him; says ‘The bell has rung!’
He’s roused, his watch to keep.
Shiv’ring he walks the quarter-deck,
Dreading the stern lieutenant’s check,
Who struts the weather-side;
With glass and trumpet in his hand,
He bellows forth his harsh command,
With arrogance and pride.
_THE BATTLE OF THE NILE._
[Fragment.]
Come, all you British sailors bold, and listen to my song:
It’s well worth your attention, and I will not keep you long;
It’s of a British squadron that sailed the other day,
Commanded by Lord Nelson on the 29th of May.
We had just twelve sail of the line, our fleet it was no more,
Besides a frigate and a brig, to cruise the Straits all o’er.
In chasing of those French dogs our intention it was good,
With the wind at S.S.E., my boys, our course for Naples stood.
When we came to Naples no French fleet had been there;
Back to the isle of Sicily our course we then did steer,
Where we watered all our warlike ships, likewise refreshed our men.
All things complete, and the wind set fair, we put to sea again.
We scarce had made the island when a strange sail we spied,
Gave chase and soon came up with her--she proved the _Reguli_.
She told us Malta was taken and the French fleet put to sea
With the whole of their old troops on board, bound for Alexandrie.
Great was our disappointment; our ships their winds did haul,
And slowly standing down the coast in a silent cruise we call.
[_They sight the ‘Pharos’ and open the bay._
And there we spied the French fleet about three leagues or more.
[_They bear down and form line of battle._
It was the first of August, that being our glorious day
When we began the action, ’twas in Aboukir Bay.
[_The next verses name all the ships in their order._]
The _Zealous_ led the way, my boys,...
... the _Bellerophon_ and _Minotaur_,
All followed by the bold _Vanguard_ which made the French to rue.
* * * * *
We anchored alongside of them like lions bold and free.
When their masts and shrouds came tumbling down, what a glorious
sight to see!
* * * * *
Then came the bold _Leander_, that noble fifty-four,
And on the bows of the _Franklin_ she caused her guns to roar;
Gave her a dreadful drubbing, boys, and did severely maul,
Which caused them loud for quarter cry and down French colours haul.
Now the glory and the pride of France the _L’Orient_ was called,
And in the centre of their line she got severely mauled;
Gave her a dreadful drubbing, boys, took fire and up she blew,
With fourteen hundred souls on board which bid this world adieu.
And now we’ve taken the French fleet--Lord speed them on their way!--
Besides some more we burnt and sunk before we left the bay.
May we always prove victorious while we sail on the seas,
Against the French, the Dutch, the Danes, and all our enemies.
_THE ARROW SLOOP OF WAR._
You Britons bold, that never was controul’d, come listen unto me,
And a song to you I’ll sing, none but the truth you’ll hear:
Concerning of a fight, brave boys, which happen’d late, you know,
Commanded by bold Portlock, and the ship call’d the _Arrow_.
The most of people call’d her the _Carpenter’s Mistake_,
Because she had two maintopsail-yards, and head and stern alike.
They said she’d prove a coffin to all our brave ship’s crew;
But instead of that, my British boys made the Dutch dogs to rue.
We being new constructed, they said our guns were leather;
They said we steer’d by sleight of hand, they could not see our
ruther.
They said our sides were gingerbread, and our shot were made of clay,
But the Dutch they prov’d full sorry on’t when us they felt that day.
On the thirteenth of September we saw a Dutch ship lay
All at anchor in Hallen’s stream: we bore for her straightway.
In full fifteen minutes raked fore and aft we were
Before we could come up to her or bring our guns to bear.
But, when we did come up to her, our anchor we let go.
Their captain cries, ‘Come, British boys, we will make sure of you.’
But when we did begin, my boys, the yards and rigging flew
For raking us we paid them off, both for the old and new.
The second broadside we gave to them their ensign staff came down.
‘Well done, my boys!’ our captain cries; ‘they see us in Hallen
stream town
How we do use their shipping so nigh unto their shore.’
And the people stood a-looking on, and heard our great guns roar.
For five-and-twenty minutes so swift we sent them shot,
Our action it was very short, but it was very hot.
Whilst they sung out for quarter, our captain he did say,
‘Avast, my boys, with honour, we’ve shown them British play.
‘The action being over, and the pris’ners safe on board,
We’ll keep safe below, my boys, and toss a can of grog.
And when we come to Portsmouth, with a girl on each knee,
We’ll spend our money cheerfully, and then again to sea.’
It is now for to finish this my warlike song,
I am a saucy foremast Jack, to the _Arrow_ do belong.
In praise of Captain Portlock and his officers we’ll sing,
And not forgetting the _Arrow’s_ crew, and long live George our King!
_COPENHAGEN._
Of Nelson and the north,
Sing the day,
When, their haughty powers to vex,
He engaged the Danish decks;
And with twenty floating wrecks
Crowned the fray.
All bright, in April’s sun,
Shone the day,
When a British fleet came down
Through the islands of the Crown,
And by Copenhagen town
Took their stay.
In arms the Danish shore
Proudly shone;
By each gun the lighted brand
In a bold, determined hand,
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.
For Denmark here had drawn
All her might:
From her battleships so vast
She had hewn away the mast,
And at anchor, to the last
Bade them fight.
Another noble fleet
Of their line
Rode out; but these were nought
To the batteries which they brought
Like Leviathans afloat
In the brine.
It was ten of Thursday morn
By the chime,
As they drifted on their path
There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time--
Ere a first and fatal round
Shook the flood.
Every Dane looked out that day,
Like the red wolt on his prey;
And he swore his flag to sway
O’er our blood.
Not such a mind possessed
England’s tar;
’Twas the love of noble game
Set his oaken heart on flame--
For to him ’twas all the same,
Sport and war.
All hands and eyes on watch
As they keep;
By their motion light as wings,
By each step that haughty springs,
You might know them for the kings
Of the deep.
’Twas the _Edgar_ first that smote
Denmark’s line;
As her flag the foremost soared,
Murray stamped his foot on board,
And an hundred cannons roared
At the sign.
Three cheers of all the fleet
Sung Huzza!
Then from centre, rear, and van,
Every captain, every man,
With a lion’s heart began
To the fray.
Oh, dark grew soon the heavens--
For each gun
From its adamantine lips
Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Like a hurricane eclipse
Of the sun.
Three hours the raging fire
Did not slack;
But the fourth, their signals drear
Of distress and wreck appear,
And the Dane a feeble cheer
Sent us back.
The voice decayed; their shots
Slowly boom.
They ceased--and all is wail,
As they strike the shattered sail,
Or in conflagration pale
Light the gloom.
Oh, death--it was a sight
Filled our eyes!
But we rescued many a crew
From the waves of scarlet hue
Ere the Cross of England flew
O’er her prize.
Why cease not here the strife,
O ye brave?
Why bleeds old England’s band
By the fire of Danish land,
That smites the very hand
Stretched to save?
But the Britons sent to warn
Denmark’s town:
‘Proud foes, let vengeance sleep!
If another chain-shot sweep--
All your navy in the deep
Shall go down.
‘Then, peace instead of death
Let us bring!
If you’ll yield your conquered fleet,
With the crews, at England’s feet,
And make submission meet
To our King.’
The Dane returned, a truce
Glad to bring:
He would yield his conquered fleet,
With the crews, at England’s feet,
And make submission meet
To our King.
Then Death withdrew his pall
From the day;
And the sun looked smiling bright
On a wide and woful sight
Where the fires of funeral light
Died away.
Yet, all amidst her wrecks
And her gore,
Proud Denmark blest our chief
That he gave her wounds relief;
And the sounds of joy and grief
Filled her shore.
All round, outlandish cries
Loudly broke;
But a nobler note was rung
When the British, old and young,
To their bands of music sung
‘Hearts of Oak!’
Cheer! cheer! from park and tower,
London town!
When the King shall ride in state
From St. James’s royal gate,
And to all his peers relate
Our renown!
The bells shall ring! the day
Shall not close,
But a blaze of cities bright
Shall illuminate the night,
And the wine-cup shine in light
As it flows.
Yes--yet amid the joy
And uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep
Full many a fathom deep,
All beside thy rocky steep,
Elsinore!
Brave hearts, to Britain’s weal
Once so true!
Though death has quenched your flame,
Yet immortal be your name!
For ye died the death of fame
With Riou.