William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
The Battle of ValparaisoF
Let the muse her garland twine,
To adorn our Porter’s brow,
Who, beyond the burning line,
Led his caravan of tars o’er the tide.
To the pilgrims fill the bowl,
Who, around the southern pole,
Saw new constellations roll,
For their guide.
And our ship for action clear,
By the cannon and the sword,
We will die or conquer here.
The foe, of twice our force, nears us fast:
To your posts, my faithful tars!
Mind your rigging, guns, and spars,
And defend your stripes and stars
To the last.”
Flew each sailor to his gun,
And resolved he there would stand,
Though the odds was two to one,
To defend his flag and ship with his life:
High on every mast display’d,
“God, Our Country, and Free Trade.”
E’en the bravest braver made
For the strife.
But, unmoved as ocean’s rock,
When the tempest round it roars,
Every seaman breasts the shock,
Boldly stepping where his brave messmates fall.
O’er his head, full oft and loud,
Like the vulture in a cloud,
As it cuts the twanging shroud,
Screams the ball.
From its iron caverns driven,
Drops the sear’d and shiver’d mast,
By the bolt of battle riven,
And higher heaps the ruin of the deck—
As the sailor, bleeding, dies,
To his comrades lifts his eyes,
“Let our flag still wave,” he cries,
O’er the wreck.
Hark! along the silent lee,
Oft is heard the solemn plunge,
In the bosom of the sea.
’Tis not the sullen plunge of the dead,
But the self-devoted tar,
Who, to grace the victor’s car,
Scorns from home and friends afar
To be led.
Who survived that day of blood:
And may fortune soon renew
Equal battle on the flood.
Long live the glorious names of the brave
O’er these martyrs of the deep,
Oft the roving tar shall weep,
Crying, “Sweetly may they sleep
’Neath the wave.”