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Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889

Bold Hawthorne

By Revolutionary Songs and Ballads

THE TWENTY-SECOND of August,

Before the close of day,

All hands on board of our privateer,

We got her under weigh;

We kept the Eastern shore along,

For forty leagues or more,

Then our departure took for sea,

From the isle of Mauhegan shore.

Bold Hawthorne was commander,

A man of real worth,

Old England’s cruel tyranny

Induced him to go forth;

She, with relentless fury,

Was plundering all our coast,

And thought, because her strength was great,

Our glorious cause was lost.

Yet boast not, haughty Britons,

Of power and dignity,

By land thy conquering armies,

Thy matchless strength at sea;

Since taught by numerous instances

Americans can fight,

With valor can equip their stand,

Your armies put to flight.

Now farewell to fair America,

Farewell our friends and wives;

We trust in Heaven’s peculiar care,

For to protect their lives;

To prosper our intended cruise

Upon the raging main,

And to preserve our dearest friends

Till we return again.

The wind it being leading,

It bore us on our way,

As far unto the southward

As the Gulf of Florida;

Where we fell in with a British ship,

Bound homeward from the main;

We gave her two bow-chasers,

And she returned the same.

We hauled up our courses,

And so prepared for fight;

The contest held four glasses,

Until the dusk of night;

Then having sprung our main-mast,

And had so large a sea,

We dropped astern and left our chase

Till the returning day.

Next morn we fished our main-mast,

The ship still being nigh,

All hands made for engaging

Our chance once more to try;

But wind and sea being boisterous

Our cannon would not bear,

We thought it quite imprudent

And so we left her there.

We cruised to the eastward,

Near the coast of Portugal,

In longitude of twenty-seven

We saw a lofty sail;

We gave her chase, and soon perceived

She was a British snow

Standing for fair America,

With troops for General Howe.

Our captain did inspect her

With glasses, and he said,

“My boys, she means to fight us,

But be you not afraid;

All hands repair to quarters,

See everything is clear,

We’ll give her a broadside, my boys,

As soon as she comes near.”

She was prepared with nettings,

And her men were well secured,

And bore directly for us,

And put us close on board;

When the cannon roared like thunder,

And the muskets fired amain,

But soon we were along-side

And grappled to her chain.

And now the scene it altered,

The cannon ceased to roar,

We fought with swords and boarding-pikes

One glass or something more,

Till British pride and glory

No longer dared to stay,

But cut the Yankee grapplings,

And quickly bore away.

Our case was not so desperate

As plainly might appear;

Yet sudden death did enter

On board our privateer.

Mahoney, Crew, and Clemmons,

The valiant and the brave,

Fell glorious in the contest,

And met a watery grave.

Ten other men were wounded

Among our warlike crew,

With them our noble captain,

To whom all praise is due;

To him and all our officers

Let’s give a hearty cheer;

Success to fair America

And our good privateer.