Chapter XIII: Part 13

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.

Both round, grape, and double-head we poured in so fast,
[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.

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven
O’er your grave!
While the billow mournful rolls
And the mermaid’s song condoles,
Singing--glory to the souls
Of the brave.

_ACTION OFF COPENHAGEN._

You undaunted sons of Britannia, lend an ear,
A story concerning a fight you shall hear.
It was on March the 12th, my boys, our fleet did sail
Out of Yarmouth with a sweet and pleasant gale.

Our Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Parker by name,
And Vice-Admiral Nelson, that man of great fame,
And Rear-Admiral Graves which drew up the rear,
While so boldly for Elsenore Castle we steer’d.

On the 13th we so boldly pass’d Elsenore by,
While so many thousand shot and shells they did fly;
Then straight for Copenhagen our fleet they did steer,
And we anchor’d abreast of the town without fear.

On the second of April it was the glorious day
When bold Nelson’s division they got under weigh--
Each ship set for action, each man to his gun,
Resolv’d so boldly we was for to run.

It was into the roads where the Danish flag did fly,
Determin’d alongside of their fleet for to lie;
Said we will make them to strike, my boys, or else we’ll send them
down,
There for to storm and set fire to their town.

The first was the _Edgar_, she did lead the van,
At eleven o’clock the heavy fire began,
The _Ardent_ and _Glatton_, the rest did the same,
The _Defiance_ and _Monarch_ behaved with great fame.

Then in came Lord Nelson, in the _Elephant_;
Next _Bellona_ and _Ganges_, so boldly they went;
The bold _Polyphemus_ run in the same way,
And the brave little _Isis_ her part she did play.

The _Amazon_, the _Hermione_, the _Desirée_ and _Blanch_,
They anchor’d in the line and behav’d so staunch;
The _Otter_ and the _Dart_ they anchor’d also,
Until by a signal was forc’d for to go.

Now these four frigates that we have mentioned here,
And two little sloops that run in without fear,
They all run and anchor’d alongside the fleet,
Their forts the same time they began to defeat.

But so great was their mistake, at about four o’clock
They found they could no longer stand our shot;
For their batteries we clear’d, my boys, which was our own desire
And the town in three places our bombs set on fire.

Seven of their two-deckers to us they did strike,
And six floating batteries likewise did the like.
‘Well done, my brave boys!’ said Lord Nelson; ‘that’s right,
For your courage and mine you have displayed in this fight.’

So now, my brave boys, let it never be said
That ever Lord Nelson or Graves was afraid.
Success to our officers throughout the whole fleet,
That encouraged the Britons the Danes to defeat.

So now [to conclude and to finish my log],
Call up the steward to serve out the grog.
Here’s a health to our wives and sweethearts at home,
For they’ll give us a glass when to England we come.

_A NEW SONG ON LORD NELSON’S VICTORY AT COPENHAGEN._

Draw near, ye gallant seamen, while I the truth unfold
Of as gallant a naval victory as ever yet was told.
The second day of April last, upon the Baltic main,
Parker, Nelson, and their brave tars fresh laurels there did gain.
_With their thundering and roaring, rattling and roaring,
Thundering and roaring bombs._

Gallant Nelson volunteer’d himself, with twelve sail form’d a line,
And in the Road of Copenhagen he began his grand design;
His tars, with usual courage, their valour did display,
And destroy’d the Danish navy upon that glorious day.
_With their, etc._

With strong floating batteries in van and rear we find,
The enemy in centre had six ships of the line--
At ten that glorious morning the fight begun, it’s true;
We Copenhagen set on fire, my boys, before the clock struck two.
_With their, etc._

When this armament we had destroy’d, we anchor’d near the town,
And with our bombs were fully bent to burn their city down;
Revenge for poor Matilda’s wrongs our seamen swore they’d have;
But they sent a flag of truce on board, their city for to save.
_With their, etc._

For the loss of his eye and arm, bold Nelson does declare,
The foes of his country not an inch of them he’ll spare;
The Danes he’s made to rue the day that they ever Paul did join,
Eight ships he burnt, four he sunk, and took six of the line.
_With their, etc._

Now drink a health to gallant Nelson, the wonder of the world,
Who, in defence of his country, his thunder loud has hurled;
And to his bold and valiant tars who plough the raging sea,
And who never were afraid to face the daring enemy.
_With their, etc._

_A NEW SONG COMPOSED BY THE WOUNDED TARS AT THE SIEGE OF BOULOGNE._

On the second day of August, eighteen hundred and one,
We sailed with Lord Nelson to the port of Boulogne,
For to cut out their shipping, which was all in vain--
To our great misfortune, they were all moored with chain.

Our boats being well manned, by eleven at night,
To cut out their shipping, not expecting they would fight;
But the grape from their batteries so smartly did play,
Nine hundred brave seamen killed and wounded did lay.

We hoisted our colours, and boldly them spread,
With the British flag flying at the royal mast-head;
For the honour of England we will always maintain,
While bold British seamen plough the watery main.

Exposed to the fire of the enemy we lay,
While ninety bright pieces of cannon did play;
There many brave seamen then lay in their gore,
And the shot from their batteries most smartly did pour.

Our noble commander, with his heart full of grief,
Used every endeavour to afford us relief;
No ship could assist us, as well he did know,
In this wounded condition we were toss’d to and fro.

All you who relieve us, the Lord you will bless
For relieving poor seamen in times of distress;
May the Lord put an end to all cruel wars,
Send peace and contentment to all British tars.

_FRANCE COVER’D WITH GLORY, BEING A FAITHFUL NARRATIVE TAKEN FROM THE REPORT OF THE GALLANT ADMIRAL LINOIS._