William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
The Wasp and Frolic1813F
“In goodly trim, the gallant vessel glides:”
Heroic Jones, presiding, takes the helm;
His country’s honour is the star that guides!
Who, when their country calls them to provoke
The dread, the unequal contest, nobly dare
The red artillery of the British oak.
Majestic now she ploughs the briny deeps,
The dread avenger of our country’s wrong,
While, undisturb’d, the treasured vengeance sleeps.
In silent grandeur, rises on the sight:
Terrific omen! honour’d wide and far:
The harbinger of death, and pale affright.
Frowning they meet, and awfully serene:
And, ere the strife begins, in solemn pause,
They stand and watch the narrow space between.
When vulgar mortals tremble and despair:
When all the patriot has to hope, or fear,
Seems but suspended by a single hair.
What wild emotions enter and depart!
What hopes of glory—fears of foul defeat!
All throng, tumultuous, through the stoutest heart!
As if the clouds that sail’d the realms of air
At once had settled on the ocean’s breast,
And fix’d the region of contention there.
A night of horror veils the combat o’er,
Disturb’d by victor-shouts and dying cries—
By lightning flashes, and the thunder’s roar.
How cold the cheek where hope was so elate!
And the pale lip still quivers with the shout
Of joy and triumph in the hour of fate.
Ye sights unholy, vanish from my ken:
For supplicating Mercy’s cries, Forbear!
Nor taunt with victory these dying men.
Safe from the arduous perils of the fight;
And welcome, gallant leader of the band!
Who blushes when he finds his fame so bright.
And Rapp!—such noble souls will ne’er refuse
This poor requital, and with rudeness slight
The humble offering of no venal Muse.
Thy early day betokens promise fair;
For glory hover’d round the brows of pain,
And mark’d, unseen, the future hero there.
When, cover’d with the cannon’s flaming breath,
Onward he press’d, unconquerably bold;
He fear’d dishonour, but he spurn’d at death.
Undaunted by the roar of hostile arms;
And led reluctant Victory by the hand,
Confused and blushing, in her blaze of charms.
Nor shall malignant envy dare assail:
Receive the laurel which your country gives,
And share her triumphs while she tells the tale.