James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
September 11The Battle of Lake Champlain
By Philip Freneau (17521832)
P
Full fourteen thousand soldiers stood;
Allied with natives of the wood,
With frigates, sloops, and galleys near;
Which southward, now, began to steer;
Their object was, Ticonderogue.
A feast they held, to hail the day,
When all should bend to British sway
From Plattsburgh to Ticonderogue.
They might not other laurels share
And England’s flag in triumph bear
To the capitol, at Albany!
The frigates were with vengeance stored,
The strength of Mars was felt on board,—
When Downie gave the dreadful word,
Huzza! for death or victory!
And, with his veterans, made the attack,
Macomb’s brave legions drove him back;
And England’s fleet approached, to meet
A desperate combat, on the lake.
With sulphurous clouds the heavens were black;
We saw advance the Confiance,
Shall blood and carnage mark her track,
To gain dominion on the lake.
And many a tar did kill or maim,
Who suffered for their country’s fame,
Her soil to save, her rights to guard.
And soon his seamen heard him say,
“No Saratoga yields, this day,
To all the force that Britain sends.
Be firm, and to your stations haste,
And England from Champlain is chased,
If you behave as you see me.”
At our first flash the artillery tore,
From his proud stand, their commodore,
A presage of the victory.
Such thunders from the cannon spoke,
The contest such an aspect took
As if all nature went to wreck!
Unmoved, the brave Macdonough stood,
Or waded through a scene of blood,
At every step that round him streamed:
He stood amidst dismounted guns,
He fought amidst heart-rending groans,
The tattered sail, the tottering mast.
And charged his guns with vengeance sore,
And more than Etna shook the shore—
The foe confessed the contest vain.
That day; for Britain’s fortune failed,
And their best efforts naught availed
To hold dominion on Champlain.
The vanquished struck—their ships a wreck—
What dismal tidings for Quebec,
What news for England and her prince!
A favorite project is undone;
Her sorrows only are begun—
And she may want, and very soon,
Her armies for her own defence.