A Ballad Of The French Fleet

OCTOBER, 1746     MR. THOMAS PRINCE loquitur.     A fleet with flags arrayed         Sailed from the port of Brest,     And the Admiral's ship displayed         The signal: "Steer southwest."     For this Admiral D'Anville         Had sworn by cross and crown     To ravage with fire and steel         Our helpless Boston Town.     There were rumors in the street,         In the houses there was fear     Of the coming of the fleet,         And the danger hovering near.     And while from mouth to mouth         Spread the tidings of dismay,     I stood in the Old South,         Saying humbly: "Let us pray!     "O Lord! we would not advise;         But if in thy Providence     A tempest should arise         To drive the French fleet hence,     And scatter it far and wide,         Or sink it in the sea,     We should be satisfied,         And thine the glory be."     This was the prayer I made,         For my soul was all on flame,     And even as I prayed         The answering tempest came;     It came with a mighty power,         Shaking the windows and walls,     And tolling the bell in the tower,         As it tolls at funerals.     The lightning suddenly         Unsheathed its flaming sword,     And I cried: "Stand still, and see         The salvation of the Lord!"     The heavens were black with cloud,         The sea was white with hail,     And ever more fierce and loud         Blew the October gale.     The fleet it overtook,         And the broad sails in the van     Like the tents of Cushan shook,         Or the curtains of Midian.     Down on the reeling decks         Crashed the o'erwhelming seas;     Ah, never were there wrecks         So pitiful as these!     Like a potter's vessel broke         The great ships of the line;     They were carried away as a smoke,         Or sank like lead in the brine.     O Lord! before thy path         They vanished and ceased to be,     When thou didst walk in wrath         With thine horses through the sea!