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ACT I.
SCENE I.
Camp at Cambridge.Enter Warren, Putnam, and Gardiner.
Warren.
Why this inglorious inactivity,
And leave the famish'd city to the foe;
Nor turn our vengeance on relentless Gage?
Perfidious man! Who pledg'd his oath so late,
And word of honour to those patriots
Yet in his power, that yielding him their arms,
They should receive permission to depart,
And join once more their valiant countrymen;
But now detains as hostages these men,
In low damp dungeons, and in gaols chain'd down,
While grief and famine on their vitals prey.
Say noble Putnam, shall we hear of this.
And let our idle swords rust in the sheath,
While slaves of Royal Power impeach our worth
As vain, and call our patience cowardice?
Putnam.
Not less bold Warren have I felt the pangs
Of woe severe in this calamity:
And could I with my life redeem the times,
The richest blood that circles round my heart,
Should hastily be shed. But what avails
The genuine flame and vigour of the soul,
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Opposes every effort in our power?
These sons of slavery dare not advance,
And meet in equal fight our hostile arms.
For yet they well remember Lexington,
And what they suffer'd on that rueful day,
When wantoning in savage rage, they march'd
Onward to Concord, in a firm array,
Mock music playing, and the ample flag
Of tyranny display'd; but with dire loss
And infamy driven back, they gain'd the town,
And under cover of their ships of war,
Retir'd, confounded and dismay'd. No more
In mirthful mood to combat us, or mix
Their jocund music with the sounds of war.
To tempt no more unequal fight with men,
Who to oppose an arbitrary sway,
Have grasp'd the sword; and resolute to brave
Death in his dreary shapes, can know,
In the warm breast, no sentiment of fear.
Gardiner.
The free born spirit of immortal fire
Is stranger to ignoble deeds, and shuns
The name of cowardice. But well thy mind,
Sage, and matur'd by long experience, weighs
The perilous attempt, to storm the town,
And rescue thence, the suff'ring citizens.
For but one pass to that peninsula,
On which the city stands, on all sides barr'd.
And here what numbers can supply the rage,
Of the all devouring, deep mouth'd cannon, plac'd,
On many a strong redoubt; While on arch side,
The ships of war, moor'd, in the winding bay,
Can weep ten thousand from the level beach,
“And render all access impregnable.”
Warren.
True valiant Gard'ner, the attempt is vain,
To force that entrance to the sea-girt town;
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Kept back our swords, we saw them fortify.
But what if happily, with a chosen few,
Led through the midnight shades, yon heights were gain'd,
And that contiguous hill, whose grassy foot,
By Mystick's gentle tide is wash'd. Here rais'd,
Strong batt'ries jutting o'er the level sea,
With everlasting thunder, shall annoy
Their navy far beneath; and in some lucky hour,
When dubious darkness on the land is spread,
A chosen band may pierce their sep'rate fleet,
And in swift boats, across the narrow tide,
Pour like a flame, on their unguarded ranks,
And wither them: As when an Angel smote,
The Assyrian camp. The proud Sennacherib;
With impious rage, against the hill of God,
Blasphem'd. Low humbl'd, when the dawning light,
Saw all his host dead men: So yet I trust,
The God of battles, will avouch our cause,
And those proud champions of despotic power,
Who turn our fasting to their mirth, and mock
Our prayers, naming us the Saints, shall yet,
Repay with blood, the scorn they cast upon us.
Putnam.
Heaven favour this attempt. Now from our troops,
Seven hundred gallant men, and skill'd in arms,
With speed select, choice spirits of the war.
By you, led on, brave Gard'ner, to the heights,
E're yet the morn, with dawning light breaks forth,
Intrench on Bunkers Hill; and when the day,
First, o'er the hill top rises, we shall join
United arms, against the assailing foe,
Should they attempt to cross the narrow tide,
In deep battalion to regain the hill.
Gardiner.
The thought is perilous, and many men,
To this bold enterprize, must strew the ground.
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I draw my sword, nor shall the sheath again,
Receive the shining blade, till on the heights,
It drinks the blood of many a warrior slain.
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