Their squadrons, arm'd with gun and sword,
Their legions, led by knight and lord
Have sworn to see the reign restored
Of George, the goth;
Whose mandate, from a vandal shore,
Impels the sail, directs the oar,
And, to extend the flames of war,
Employs them both.
THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE
September 10, 1813
"To clear the lake of Perry's fleet
And make his flag his winding sheet
This is my object—I repeat—"
—Said Barclay, flush'd with native pride,
To some who serve the british crown:—
But they, who dwell beyond the moon,
Heard this bold menace with a frown,
Nor the rash sentence ratified.
Ambition so bewitch'd his mind,
And royal smiles had so combined
With skill, to act the part assign'd
He for no contest cared, a straw;
The ocean was too narrow far
To be the seat of naval war;
He wanted lakes, and room to spare,
And all to yield to Britain's law.
And thus he made a sad mistake;
Forsooth he must possess the lake,
As merely made for England's sake
To play her pranks and rule the roast;
Where she might govern, uncontrol'd,
An unmolested empire hold,
And keep a fleet to fish up gold,
To pay the troops of George Provost.
The ships approach'd, of either side,
And Erie, on his bosom wide
Beheld two hostile navies ride,
Each for the combat well prepared:
The lake was smooth, the sky was clear,
The martial drum had banish'd fear,
And death and danger hover'd near,
Though both were held in disregard.
From lofty heights their colors flew,
And Britain's standard all in view,
With frantic valor fired the crew
That mann'd the guns of queen Charlotte.
"And we must Perry's squadron take,
And England shall command the lake;—
And you must fight for Britain's sake,
(Said Barclay) sailors, will you not?"