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 | Columbia's glory |  |
What though thy noble chief,
Right honourable THIEF!
Issuing from Carlolonia's gates,
Inland could propagate th'alarms,
And penetrate so far,
By dint of numbers and superior arms,
As through the bosom of the southern states
To drive the unequal war?
For no long time he stay'd
On such forbidden ground;
But, prudently afraid,
Remov'd his station near the shore,
And, waking from his reverie at last,
To his confusion found,
When his heroic dream was o'er,
That, in his wild vagaries past,
He had too far proceeded and too fast.
Coop'd up at length in York-Town, like a knave,
By Washington, De Grasse and Rochambeau,
When he through hopes of succour brave,
Had for a while their arms defy'd,
Was fain at last, forth issuing from his cave,
Himself and army to resign,
His conduct indiscreet deplore,
And, to his great confusion, undergo,
In spite of all his pride,
The same humiliating fate Burgoyne,
Himself too soon had, censur'd, underwent before.
What though tremend'ous issuing forth,
That blust'ring hero of the north,
With his high sounding titles arm'd,
And with his own loud swelling strains,
Fantastically charm'd,
Found means to work his way
Through woods and swamps, with wond'rous pains,
Majestically slow,
Marshal his troops in terrible array,
And make a mighty show
On Saratoga's plains?
Soon his magnificent parade
Prov'd but a tinsel-glare;
And all the swelling boasts he made
Like bubbles broke and vanish'd into air:
For, after two vain efforts in the field,
He was ignobly forc'd to yield,
With all his titles as he was adorn'd,
Confess his weakness and a truce implore,
Ev'n of that very people he before
Had proudly threaten'd, vilifi'd and scorn'd.
But it perhaps may yield
Some consolation to his pride,
That when he stoop'd so low,
And to insulted rustics kneel'd,
(The character of the victorious foe,
And his own previous gasoonade aside)
He suffer'd in reality no more,
Than what at Closter-seven heretofore,
Thy humbled uncle's ROYAL HIGHNESS bore.
What though sometimes thy veterans could foil
Columbia's unexperienc'd bands,
Compell them to recoil,
Desert the fortress and the field,
And, overpower'd by numbers, yield,
Their houses and their lands,
To thy rapacious myrmidons a spoil?
On such occasions their presumptuous pride
Expos'd them oft to unexpected woe;
And, while they on their boasted strength rely'd,
Their hasty triumphs and untimely joy
A prelude prov'd to some disastrous blow:
For Heav'n by them defy'd,
(Who oft infatuates whom he would destroy )
In vengeance suffer'd them to speed,
Their vanity to feed,
Into some snare their folly to decoy,
And aggravate their final overthrow.
Right honourable THIEF!
Issuing from Carlolonia's gates,
Inland could propagate th'alarms,
And penetrate so far,
By dint of numbers and superior arms,
As through the bosom of the southern states
To drive the unequal war?
For no long time he stay'd
On such forbidden ground;
But, prudently afraid,
Remov'd his station near the shore,
And, waking from his reverie at last,
To his confusion found,
When his heroic dream was o'er,
That, in his wild vagaries past,
He had too far proceeded and too fast.
Coop'd up at length in York-Town, like a knave,
By Washington, De Grasse and Rochambeau,
When he through hopes of succour brave,
Had for a while their arms defy'd,
26
Himself and army to resign,
His conduct indiscreet deplore,
And, to his great confusion, undergo,
In spite of all his pride,
The same humiliating fate Burgoyne,
Himself too soon had, censur'd, underwent before.
What though tremend'ous issuing forth,
That blust'ring hero of the north,
With his high sounding titles arm'd,
And with his own loud swelling strains,
Fantastically charm'd,
Found means to work his way
Through woods and swamps, with wond'rous pains,
Majestically slow,
Marshal his troops in terrible array,
And make a mighty show
On Saratoga's plains?
Soon his magnificent parade
Prov'd but a tinsel-glare;
And all the swelling boasts he made
Like bubbles broke and vanish'd into air:
For, after two vain efforts in the field,
He was ignobly forc'd to yield,
With all his titles as he was adorn'd,
Confess his weakness and a truce implore,
Ev'n of that very people he before
Had proudly threaten'd, vilifi'd and scorn'd.
But it perhaps may yield
Some consolation to his pride,
That when he stoop'd so low,
And to insulted rustics kneel'd,
(The character of the victorious foe,
And his own previous gasoonade aside)
He suffer'd in reality no more,
Than what at Closter-seven heretofore,
27
What though sometimes thy veterans could foil
Columbia's unexperienc'd bands,
Compell them to recoil,
Desert the fortress and the field,
And, overpower'd by numbers, yield,
Their houses and their lands,
To thy rapacious myrmidons a spoil?
On such occasions their presumptuous pride
Expos'd them oft to unexpected woe;
And, while they on their boasted strength rely'd,
Their hasty triumphs and untimely joy
A prelude prov'd to some disastrous blow:
For Heav'n by them defy'd,
(Who oft infatuates whom he would destroy )
In vengeance suffer'd them to speed,
Their vanity to feed,
Into some snare their folly to decoy,
And aggravate their final overthrow.
| Columbia's glory | |