The Battle of the Bight

HAD I that fabled herb Which brought to life the dead, Whom would I dare disturb In his eternal bed? Great Grenville would I wake, And with glad tidings make The soul of mighty Drake Upheave a glorying head.

As rose the misty sun, Our men the North Sea scanned, And each rejoicing gun Welcomed a foe at hand, Eager, with thunderous throat, To sound, for all afloat, The world-awakening note The world can understand.

For ev'n as birds of night, Hoary and tawny owl, Do sometimes brave the light, Like bolder, nobler fowl, So did the foe that day Come venturing forth for prey, Where, on the ocean way, Our ocean watchdogs prowl.

But brief and plain, 'mid men Not born to yield or flee, Our cannon spoke out then The speech that keeps us free, And battered, with hoarse boom, Four warships to their doom, While one, to a fiercer tomb, Fled blazing down the sea.