THE CARIB SEA
From Maracaibo's Bay
Anon put out
A frigate to waylay
This ranger dark.
It crossed the Mer du Nord,
And, off San Salvador,
Stayed, with defiance stout,
Francisca's barque.
They grappled stern and prow
Till the guns kissed!
Girt like her rovers, now
She bids them board:
The first her blade had shorn
Was her own brother born.
Blindly she smote, nor wist
Whose life-stream poured.
Yet, as he fell, one ball
His sure aim sped.
Her lips the battle-call
Essay in vain.
Then deathful stroke on stroke,
Curses and powder-smoke,
And blood like water shed
Above the twain!
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