And cry'd "like hell his heart is black—
Pursue him, boys, and scent his track,
If drunk or dead, we'll have him back,
This man of scum!"
Each took his mark, and hit a tree;
The battle's done!—all sober, we;
Huzza! we have the victory!
Then scamper'd home!
RETALIATION
A Marine Ode—1814
"Ye powers who rule the western gale
Not for the golden fleece we sail,
Nor yet on wild ambition's plan,
But vengeance gathers man with man.
For wrongs which wearied patience bore,
For slighted rules of legal war,
We rear our flag, our sails display,
And east north east explore our way.
Let some assert, ten thousand pounds
Would place our fleet on british grounds,
And urge us onward to saint James
To wrap his palaces in flames.
A motive of so mean a cast
Allures no mind, excites no breast;
From such reward we loathing turn
And would at such a proffer spurn.