The breeze fair aft, all sails on high,
Ten guns on each side mounted seen,
She does not cut the sea, but fly,
A swiftly sailing brigantine;
A pirate bark, the ‘Dreaded’ named,
For her surpassing boldness famed,
On every sea well known and shore,
From side to side their boundaries o’er.
The moon in streaks the waves illumes;
Hoarse groans the wind the rigging through;