A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH 66 FLEET OCTOBER, 1746 A FLEET with flags arrayed Had sworn by cross and crown Our helpless Boston Town. There were rumors in the street, And the danger hovering near. I stood in the Old South, Saying humbly: "Let us pray! "O Lord! we would not advise; But if in thy Providence A tempest should arise To drive the French Fleet hence, 8 16 And scatter it far and wide, Or sink it in the sea, We should be satisfied, And thine the glory be." This was the prayer I made, The answering tempest came; The lightning suddenly Unsheathed its flaming sword, The fleet it overtook, And the broad sails in the van 24 32 40 48 1877. Like a potter's vessel broke They vanished and ceased to be, With thine horses through the sca! 56 CARMEN BELLICOSUM IN their ragged regimentals, Yielding not, While the grenadiers were lunging, Cannon-shot; When the files Of the isles, From the smoky night encampment, bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn; And grummer, grummer, grummer, rolled the roll of the drummer Through the morn! Then with eyes to the front all, And with guns horizontal, Stood our sires; 31 While the balls whistled deadly, As the roar On the shore Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green sodded acres Of the plain; And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder, Cracking amain ! Now like smiths at their forges Cannoneers, And the villainous saltpetre As the swift With hot sweeping anger, came the horseguards' clangor On our flanks. Then higher, higher, higher, burned the old fashioned fire.. Through the ranks! Then the bare-headed colonel 24 36 And his broad sword was swinging, Then the blue And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden Rifle-breath; And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared the iron six-pounder, Hurling death! 1849. Guy Humphreys McMaster. MONTEREY WE were not many, we who stood Yet many a gallant spirit would Have been with us at Monterey. Now here, now there, the shot it hailed In deadly drifts of fiery spray, Yet not a single soldier quailed 5 When wounded comrades round them wailed Their dying shout at Monterey. And on, still on our column kept 10 Through walls of flame its withering way; Where fell the dead, the living stept, Still charging on the guns which swept 15 |