Below the rebel city the gallant frigate lay,
Her slender cordage pencilled against the morning gray
The hot breath of her anger drawn in for one reply
To the summons of the traitors who mocked her flag on high.
The pride of olden memories was in her heart of oak,
As when that meteor banner flashed through the battle smoke,
While Albion's haughty signal came down and kissed the wave
That bore our stout "Old Ironsides" to glory or her grave!
Hal shall the docks where Hull has trod, where patriot heroes bled,
Endure the dark dishonor of a traitor's victor tread?
Shall the iron throats that thundered oppression's boding knell
Hurl treason's bloody challenge to one she served so well?
No! Sooner should God's lightnings, shot down from cloudless skies,
Consume their dauntless rival as a spotless sacrifice;
Her planks leap skyward, rending the traitor wrapped in flame,
Or the deep abysses open and snatch her from her shame!
The arms are few that guard her, but the hearts are of her oak;
The shallows hold her prisoned, but she bides the thunder stroke:
No pirate's hand shall turn that helm, no slaver's bloody "bars"
Usurp her heavenward finger that lifts our bannered stars!
All day the thronging robbers their deadly toils prepare;
All night their lurid signals ran through the startled air;
Four times the ready gunner saw night and day expire,
His hand still on the hammer, and his watching eye on fire!
Ye might have heard him mutter through rigid teeth and lip,
“Let fall your iron thunderbolts upon our goodly ship;
Well answer as ye summons, returning flash for flash,
And drown your rebel insult with the broadside's rending crash!
"We are few and we may perish; but the sacred trust we hold
We will never, never yield it for your iron nor your gold!
While a plank of our stout frigate on the stormy billow rides,
Look only for defiance from the true Old Ironsides!"
As the dancing waves grew golden in the fourth day's, morning light,
Up the bay a shape came walking with its plume of pearly white,
Then grew a gallant swimmer who plied his limbs of steel,
Grinding the blue to whiteness with the dash of hand and heel.
O, look! the starry banner floats yonder to the gale,
And a thousand bayonets glitter along the steamer's rail:
There's hope for thee, good Frigate, for sturdily there strides
Unyielding old BEN BUTLER, our living Ironsides!
Though scowls the rebel pilot in sullen hate and fear,
And scowl the rebel firemen and the rebel engineer,
The Old Man's eye is on them, and their loyal task is done,
Like the service of a viper that your heel is set upon!
Now a cheer for old Ben Butler and the boys of Marblehead;
The good ship Constitution is abroad with canvas spread;
She has slipped her iron cables, and they’ve heaved her o'er the bar,
And she leaps along the waters as of old she rushed to war!
And God fulfll the omen for our gallant Ship of State
Through storm and o'er the shallows may she bear her noble freight
To the fair New-port of Freedom, to the isles of better peace,
Built on the rock of Justice, unshaken by the seas!
George Shepard Burleigh
