"Oh! very well!" our captain cries, "for her we will lie by,
And on the morrow's coming dawn, a palaver we will try;
For should we now attempt to make a pell-mell night attack,
I fear our fight would heavy fall upon the harmless black."

So early the next morning, we gently edged away,
Our captain hail'd the stranger ship, and unto her did say--
"If you don't send your boat on board, and act as I desire,
Although you bear the flag of Spain, into your hull I'll fire."

The Slaver swore that all our threats should not his courage scare,
And that th' assault of such a sloop was quite beneath his care:
Our captain calls, "Stand by, my lads! and when I give the word,
We slap off two smart broadsides, and run her right on board."

The signal then was given, a rattler we let fly,
And many a gloomy Spaniard upon her decks did die:
"Now fire again! my British boys, repeat the precious dose,
For round and grape, when plied so well, they cannot long oppose."

Now peals the roar of battle strife, now British hearts expand,
And now the anxious sailor pants to combat hand to hand;
With grapnels and with hawsers, we lash'd her to our beam,
Although the muzzles of our guns did o'er our bulwarks gleam.

"Away, my men!" the captain cries, "'tis just the time to board,"
Upon her decks we jump'd amain, with tomahawk and sword;
The conflict now was sharp and fierce, for clemency had fled,
And streams of gore mark'd every blow--the dying and the dead.

Our captain heads the daring band, to make the Velos strike,
But soon received a dangerous thrust, from a well-hove boarding pike.
We thought 'twas all "clue up" with him, although he cheered us on,
And we determined, every man, the Slaver should be won.

We beat them on the main deck, till they could no longer stand,
When our leader sings out "Quarter!" some mercy to command;
But now the sherry which we made, with panic fill'd the horde,
For some dived down the hatchways, and some leap'd overboard.

Close to their scudding heels our lads did their attentions pay,
Cutlass in hand, to hold their own--to capture more than slay;
Through slippery gore we fought our way, the quarter-deck to gain,
And in loud cheers her mizen peak soon lost the flag of Spain.

Our prize we found was frigate-built, from Whydah she sail'd out,
With near six hundred slaves on board, and eight score seamen stout;
Equipp'd with stor