University of San Francisco - USF Don Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 32 text:

M) run jgx.it .lx That Sant Marie, its men and maids, should taste of our wrath at last. There was a mansion upon the hill. W hose silence we never had broke, A village of lying spies to kill, A host for our fire and smoke. Aye, we swore that day they would pay and pay. however the fates should cast; Their blood should wash the stain away. From the mansion hill to the reeking bay Or all that stood on our deck that day W ould swing from a frigate mast. We schemed and planned and gathered a band, a stanch two hundred strong. Tron of heart and steel of hand, the hawks of whatever warrior land, Till the barque of the corsair at last was manned to avenge the corsair’s wrong. Into the fortressed gate we ran. But their guns roared long and true And crumpled the swarthy rover man As their iron missies flew. Out of the bay we dragged our way. crippled we limped along: Stern wards, red ran the reeling tide W here the scuppers dripped from our sundered side Till, distant, the fire of the foeman died. Like a red triumphant song. T ong months more, while safe ashore, we built our shattered crew, And wakened again our cannon’s roar, the beacons on many a far-off shore, Writing again the pirate lore, the merchant’s cruisers knew. Then they fitted a frigate at Sant Marie, Four long rows of cannon mouth.

Page 31 text:

THE PIRATIi 29 Careless grown, from a safety known through many a drunken night, We stretched one eve in a spot alone where the swelling waves of the ocean shone And sang to sleep with its cadent moan and the tropic moon alight Then past the guns of the harbor stole A I British frigate with bristling tiers. That had bought with the price of a Judas' soul. The silence that lulled our fears. They muffled the beat of their marching feet where our beacon smouldered bright— Till I roused to see their muskets shine Around our camp in a deadly line And I read the doom of those lads of mine. W ith never a chance to fight. My pistol rang and up we sprang, our naked weapons drawn. And into our midst the hot lead sang as broke the Hash of their volleys clang To sting, like the hidden serpent's fang, and palsy the sailors’ brawn; I saw my brother's ghastly face Go down in a swath of falling men, The bullet’s path like a crimson trace From forehead to riven chin. nd the scattered few of our fifty-two on the blades of the soldiers gone. Save one round dozen that fought their way Down to the rim of the saving bay: That clambered aboard and sailed away. Into the good red dawn. hie round dozen that bared their blades, when frigate and fort were past; ()ne round dozen that bared their blades, and swore, by Whoever would be our aids.

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THE PIRATE 31 Files of soldiers and men of the sea. They followed our pathway south; They picked our track in ships burnt black, wherever our standard flew And we laughed and sang as we sought our lair For the trap was set and ready there And the line fleets ran from the black corsair, As we cleft the ocean blue. We fled to the cove whence the pirates rove, anchored and sped ashore; And crouched in the grove of the treasure trove, till into the bay the frigate hove Then inland, silently, swift, to move, while their long boats bend the oar. Seven miles we draw a track, Twice a hundred marching wide Into the hills: then double back And crouch in a canyon’s side. Their musket sheen is in between; they’re man to man or more; There’s a cautious stir in the ambuscade, The flash and roar of a fusillade, A slither of pikes on cutlass blade And the soldiers are no more. We strip the dead from heel to head and don their trappings gay; Right well we wed their coats of red; their hats tilt well on the pirate’s head; We let them lie in their grassy bed, and turn to the shore away. Cheering and shouting we reach the sound ; The frigate greets us with rocket showers, For we’ve draped the pirates’ kerchiefs round The heads on the pikes that were meant for ours. And they’d never a hint why our heads were bent when under their lee we lay,