Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE EAGLE AND THE VULTURE, by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ Poet's Biography First Line: In cherbourg roads the pirate lay Last Line: "and for heroes like winslow is shouting, ""thank god!" Subject(s): Alabama (ship); American Civil War; Cherbourg, France; Kearsarge (ship); Sea Battles; U.s. - History; Winslow, John Ancrum (1811-1873); Naval Warfare | ||||||||
IN Cherbourg Roads the pirate lay One morn in June, like a beast at bay, Feeling secure in the neutral port, Under the guns of the Frenchman's fort; A thieving vulture; a coward thing; Sheltered beneath a despot's wing. But there outside, in the calm blue bay, Our ocean-eagle, the Kearsarge, lay; Lay at her ease on the Sunday morn, Holding the Corsair ship in scorn; With captain and crew in the might of their right, Willing to pray, but more eager to fight. Four bells are struck, and this thing of night, Like a panther, crouching with fierce affright, Must leap from his cover, and, come what may, Must fight for his life, or steal away! So, out of the port with his braggart air, With flaunting flags, sailed the proud Corsair. The Cherbourg cliffs were all alive With lookers-on, like a swarming hive; While compelled to do what he dared not shirk, The pirate went to his desperate work; And Europe's tyrants looked on in glee, As they thought of our Kearsarge sunk in the sea. But our little bark smiled back at them A smile of contempt, with that Union gem, The American banner, far floating and free, Proclaiming her champions were out on the sea; Were out on the sea, and abroad on the land, Determined to win under God's command. Down came the vulture; our eagle sat still, Waiting to strike with her iron-clad bill; Convinced by the glow of his glorious cause, He could crumple his foe in the grasp of his claws. "Clear the decks," then said Winslow, words measured and slow; "Point the guns, and prepare for the terrible blow; And whatever the fate to ourselves may be, We will sink in the ocean this pest of the sea." The decks were all cleared, and the guns were all manned, Awaiting to meet this Atlantic brigand; When, lo! roared a broadside; the ship of the thief Was torn, and wept blood in that moment of grief. Another! another! another! And still The broadsides went in with a hearty good will, Till the pirate reeled wildly, as staggering and drunk, And down to his own native regions he sunk. Down, down, forty fathoms beneath the blue wave, And the hopes of old Europe lie in the same grave; While Freedom, more firm, stands upon her own sod, And for heroes like Winslow is shouting, "Thank God!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOST ABOARD U.S.S. 'GROWLER'; IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM HICKEY, 1944 by CHARLES OLSON THE CRUISE OF THE MONITOR [MARCH 9, 1862] by GEORGE M. BAKER THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC by THOMAS CAMPBELL BARNEY'S INVITATION by PHILIP FRENEAU ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY OF PAUL JONES by PHILIP FRENEAU CASABIANCA by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE CUMBERLAND [MARCH 8, 1862] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A UTILITARIAN VIEW OF THE MONITOR'S FIGHT by HERMAN MELVILLE DRIFTING by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ |
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