The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys Late Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States of America to the Court of Madrid |
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 | The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys |  |
Now join'd the crowd, from their far distant farms,
In rustic guise, and unadorn'd in arms:
Not like their foes, in tinsel trappings gay,
And burnish'd arms that glitter'd on the day;
Who now advanc'd, where Charlestown rear'd its height,
In martial pomp, and claim'd the awful sight;
And proudly deem'd, with one decisive blow,
To hurl destruction on the routed foe.
Not so—just heav'n had fix'd the great decree,
And bade the sons of freemen still be free;
Bade all their souls with patriot ardour burn,
And taught the coward fear of death to spurn;
The threats of vengeance and of war to brave,
To purchase freedom, or a glorious grave.
Long rag'd the contest on th' embattled field;
Nor those would fly, nor these would tamely yield—
Till Warren fell, in all the boast of arms,
The pride of genius and unrivall'd charms,
His country's hope!—full soon the gloom was spread:
Oppress'd with numbers, and their leader dead,
Slow from the field the sullen troops retir'd;
Behind, the hostile flame to heav'n aspir'd.
In rustic guise, and unadorn'd in arms:
Not like their foes, in tinsel trappings gay,
And burnish'd arms that glitter'd on the day;
Who now advanc'd, where Charlestown rear'd its height,
In martial pomp, and claim'd the awful sight;
And proudly deem'd, with one decisive blow,
To hurl destruction on the routed foe.
Not so—just heav'n had fix'd the great decree,
And bade the sons of freemen still be free;
Bade all their souls with patriot ardour burn,
And taught the coward fear of death to spurn;
The threats of vengeance and of war to brave,
To purchase freedom, or a glorious grave.
Long rag'd the contest on th' embattled field;
Nor those would fly, nor these would tamely yield—
Till Warren fell, in all the boast of arms,
The pride of genius and unrivall'd charms,
His country's hope!—full soon the gloom was spread:
Oppress'd with numbers, and their leader dead,
Slow from the field the sullen troops retir'd;
Behind, the hostile flame to heav'n aspir'd.
| The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys | |