"Britons, strike home! this dog Macomb—
So well the fellow knows us—
Will just as soon jump o'er the moon
As venture to oppose us.
With quick despatch light every match,
Man every gun and swivel,
Cross in a crack the Saranac,
And drive 'em to the devil!"
The Vermont ranks that lined the banks,
Then poised the unerring rifle,
And to oppose their haughty foes
They found a perfect trifle.
Meanwhile the fort kept up such sport,
They thought the devil was in it;
Their mighty train play'd off in vain—
'Twas silenced in a minute.
Sir George, amazed, so wildly gazed,
Such frantic gambols acted,
Of all his men, not one in ten
But thought him quite distracted.
He cursed and swore, his hair he tore,
Then jump'd upon his pony,
And gallop'd off towards the bluff,
To look for Captain Downie.
But when he spied McDonough ride,
In all the pomp of glory,
He hasten'd back to Saranac,
To tell the dismal story:
"My gallant crews—Oh! shocking news—
Are all or killed or taken!
Except a few that just withdrew
In time to save their bacon.
"Old England's pride must now subside.
Oh! how the news will shock her,
To have her fleet not only beat,
But sent to Davy's locker.
From this sad day, let no one say
Britannia rules the ocean:
We've dearly bought the humbling thought,
That this is all a notion.
"With one to ten I'd fight 'gainst men,
But these are Satan's legions,
With malice fraught, some piping hot
From Pluto's darkest regions!
Hélas! mon Dieu! what shall I do?
I smell the burning sulphur—
Set Britain's isle all rank and file,
Such men would soon engulf her.
"That's full as bad—Oh! I'll run mad!
Those western hounds are summon'd;
Gaines, Scott, and Brown are coming down,
[To serve me just like Drummond].
Thick, too, as bees, the Vermontese
Are swarming to the lake, sir;
And Izard's men, come back again,
Lie hid in every brake, sir.
"Good Brisbane, beat a quick retreat,
Before their forces join, sir:
For, sure as fate, they've laid a bait
To catch us like Burgoyne, sir.
All round about, keep good look out:
We'll surely be surrounded;
Since I could crawl, my gallant soul
Was never so astounded."
The rout begun, Sir George led on,
His men ran helter skelter,
Each tried his best t' outrun the rest
To gain a place of shelter;
To hide their fear, they gave a cheer,
And thought it mighty cunning—
He'll fight, they say, another day,
Who saves himself by running!
Although the blow at New York had been turned aside, another, aimed at the Nation's Capital, fell with deadly effect. On August 24, 1814, a strong force landed in Chesapeake Bay, routed a force of militia at Bladensburg, entered Washington, and burned the Capitol, White House, and many other public buildings. A few days later, Baltimore was attacked.