 | Songs of the sea, with other poems |  |
89
THE DEATH OF WARREN.
SET TO MUSIC BY W. R. DEMPSTER.
When the war-cry of Liberty rang through the land,
To arms sprang our fathers the foe to withstand;
On old Bunker Hill their entrenchments they rear,
When the army is joined by a young volunteer.
“Tempt not death!” cried his friends; but he bade them good-by,
Saying, “O! it is sweet for our country to die!”
To arms sprang our fathers the foe to withstand;
On old Bunker Hill their entrenchments they rear,
When the army is joined by a young volunteer.
“Tempt not death!” cried his friends; but he bade them good-by,
Saying, “O! it is sweet for our country to die!”
The tempest of battle now rages and swells,
'Mid the thunder of cannon, the pealing of bells;
And a light, not of battle, illumes yonder spire—
Scene of woe and destruction;—'tis Charlestown on fire!
The young volunteer heedeth not the sad cry,
But murmurs, “'Tis sweet for our country to die!”
'Mid the thunder of cannon, the pealing of bells;
And a light, not of battle, illumes yonder spire—
Scene of woe and destruction;—'tis Charlestown on fire!
The young volunteer heedeth not the sad cry,
But murmurs, “'Tis sweet for our country to die!”
90
With trumpets and banners the foe draweth near:
A volley of musketry checks their career!
With the dead and the dying the hill-side is strown,
And the shout through our lines is, “The day is our own!”
“Not yet,” cries the young volunteer, “do they fly!
Stand firm!—it is sweet for our country to die!”
A volley of musketry checks their career!
With the dead and the dying the hill-side is strown,
And the shout through our lines is, “The day is our own!”
“Not yet,” cries the young volunteer, “do they fly!
Stand firm!—it is sweet for our country to die!”
Now our powder is spent, and they rally again;—
“Retreat!” says our chief, “since unarmed we remain!”
But the young volunteer lingers yet on the field,
Reluctant to fly, and disdaining to yield.
A shot! Ah! he falls! but his life's latest sigh
Is, “'Tis sweet, O, 'tis sweet for our country to die!”
“Retreat!” says our chief, “since unarmed we remain!”
But the young volunteer lingers yet on the field,
Reluctant to fly, and disdaining to yield.
A shot! Ah! he falls! but his life's latest sigh
Is, “'Tis sweet, O, 'tis sweet for our country to die!”
And thus Warren fell! Happy death! noble fall!
To perish for country at Liberty's call!
Should the flag of invasion profane evermore
The blue of our seas or the green of our shore,
May the hearts of our people reëcho that cry,—
“'Tis sweet, O, 'tis sweet for our country to die!”
To perish for country at Liberty's call!
Should the flag of invasion profane evermore
The blue of our seas or the green of our shore,
May the hearts of our people reëcho that cry,—
“'Tis sweet, O, 'tis sweet for our country to die!”
| Songs of the sea, with other poems | |