Hark! 'tis the Briton's lee gun!
Ne'er bolder warrior kneeled!
And ne'er to gallant mariners
Did braver seamen yield.
Proud be the sires, whose hardy boys
Then fell to fight no more:
With the brave, mid the wave;
When the cannon's thunders roar,
Their spirits then shall trim the blast,
And swell the thunder's roar.
Vain were the cheers of Britons,
Their hearts did vainly swell,
Where virtue, skill, and bravery
With gallant Morris fell.
That heart so well in battle tried,
Along the Moorish shore,
And again o'er the main,
When Columbia's thunders roar,
Shall prove its Yankee spirit true,
When Columbia's thunders roar.
Hence be our floating bulwark
Those oaks our mountains yield;
'Tis mighty Heaven's plain decree—
Then take the wat'ry field!
To ocean's farthest barrier then
Your whit'ning sail shall pour;
Safe they'll ride o'er the tide,
While Columbia's thunders roar,
While her cannon's fire is flashing fast,
And her Yankee thunders roar.
On March 11, 1813, the little privateer schooner, General Armstrong, Captain Guy R. Champlin, was cruising off Surinam River, when she sighted a sail, and on investigation found it to be a large vessel, apparently a British privateer. Champlin bore down and endeavored to board. The stranger kept off, and, suddenly raising her port covers, disclosed herself as a British 44-gun frigate. For forty-five minutes the Americans stood to their guns and endeavored to dismast the enemy, then gradually drew away and escaped.
THE GENERAL ARMSTRONG
[March 11, 1813]
Come, all you sons of Liberty, that to the seas belong,
It's worth your attention to listen to my song;
The history of a privateer I will detail in full,
That fought a "six-and-thirty" belonging to John Bull.
The General Armstrong she is called, and sailèd from New York,
With all our hearts undaunted, once more to try our luck;
She was a noble vessel, a privateer of fame:
She had a brave commander, George Champlin was his name.
We stood unto the eastward, all with a favoring gale,
In longitude of fifty we spied a lofty sail:
Our mainsail being lower'd and foresail to repair,
Our squaresail being set, my boys, the wind it provèd fair.
We very soon perceivèd the lofty sail to be
Bearing down upon us while we lay under her lee;
All hands we call'd, and sail did make, then splicèd the main-brace,
Night coming on, we sail'd so fast, she soon gave up the chase.