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 |  |
Where roar'd their cannon as the battle bled,
Lamb, Proctor, Harrison and Stephens sped.
From low Manhattan up the Highland steep,
M'Dougall pac'd in cogitation deep.
The Clintons there in toils fraternal vied,
(With York's battalions) void of fear and pride:
And Schuyler's chief command had led that force
Far to the north—but sickness check'd his course.
Though there o'er St. Clair fortune seem'd to frown,
Shall fortune blast the warrior's well-won crown?
Then Warren, Mercer, Nash, Montgomery, shone,
Though dimm'd with blood—too liberal of their own!—
Like the large oak that many a winter stood,
The tallest glory of its native wood,
Wooster was seen to stand—and like that oak,
I saw him fall beneath the fatal stroke.
By ambush'd foes, courageous Scriven died,
Where Georgia's fatten'd crops the slaughter hide;
While Davidson, deep-wounded, gasp'd in gore,
Where shoal Catawba lav'd the troop-lin'd shore.
When Herkimer, sore maim'd, still fighting, fell,
Far o'er scant Mowhawk reach'd the Indian yell:
Where Warner, Gansevort, the savage brav'd,
And nigh Canadian lakes their starry standards wav'd.
Lamb, Proctor, Harrison and Stephens sped.
From low Manhattan up the Highland steep,
M'Dougall pac'd in cogitation deep.
The Clintons there in toils fraternal vied,
(With York's battalions) void of fear and pride:
And Schuyler's chief command had led that force
Far to the north—but sickness check'd his course.
Though there o'er St. Clair fortune seem'd to frown,
Shall fortune blast the warrior's well-won crown?
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Though dimm'd with blood—too liberal of their own!—
Like the large oak that many a winter stood,
The tallest glory of its native wood,
Wooster was seen to stand—and like that oak,
I saw him fall beneath the fatal stroke.
By ambush'd foes, courageous Scriven died,
Where Georgia's fatten'd crops the slaughter hide;
While Davidson, deep-wounded, gasp'd in gore,
Where shoal Catawba lav'd the troop-lin'd shore.
When Herkimer, sore maim'd, still fighting, fell,
Far o'er scant Mowhawk reach'd the Indian yell:
Where Warner, Gansevort, the savage brav'd,
And nigh Canadian lakes their starry standards wav'd.
| The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys | |