University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Burgoyne.
The rebel foe, grown yet, more insolent,
By that small loss, or rout, at Lexington,
Prevent our purpose and the night by-post,
Have push'd intrenchments, and some flimsy works,
With rude atchievement, on the rocky brow,
Of that tall hill. A ship-boy, with the day,
From the tall mast-head, of the Admiral,
Deserv'd their alm, and gave the swift alarm.
Our glasses mark, but the small regiment there,
Yet, ev'ry hour we languish in delay,
Inspires fresh hope, and fills their pig'my souls,
With thoughts of holding it. You hear the sound
Of spades and pick-axes, upon the hill,
Like Vulcan's forge, urg'd by the Cyclops.

Enter Howe.
To your alarm posts, officers; come gallant men,
Let's out, and drive them from that eminence,
On which the foe, doth earth himself.
I relish not, such haughty neighbourhood,
Give orders, swiftly, to the Admiral,
That some stout ship heave up the narrow bay,
And pour indignant, from the full-tide wave,
Fierce cannonade, across the lathmus point,
To cut off reinforcements.

SCENE II.

The Roll Call.

Enter Adjutant.

Recover arms—To the right about face—March— it is not a time to be calling rolls, when the enemy are on the hill head, and we have orders to form. There will be about a score of rebels a piece to us, and we shall make short work with them.

SCENE III.

Howe with the British Army.
Howe.
The day at length, propitious shews itself,
And with full beams of majesty, the sun,
Hath bless'd, its fair nativity; when Heaven,
Brave soldiers, and the cause of kings,
Calls on the spirit of your loyalty,
To chastise this rebellion, and tread down,
Such foul ingratitude—such menstrous shape,
Of horrid liberty, which spurns that love—
That fond maternal tenderness of soul,
Which on this dreary coast, first planted them:
Restrain'd the rage, of murdering savages,
Which, with fierce inroad, on their settlements,
Made frequent war—struck down the arm of France,
Just rais'd, to crush them, in their infancy:
And since that time, have bade their cities grow,
To marts of trade: call'd fair-ey'd commerce forth,
To share dominion, on the distant wave,
And visit every clime, and foreign shore.
Yet this, brave soldiers, is the proud return.
For the best blood of England, shed for them.
Behold yon hill, where fell rebellion rears,
Her snake-streatn'd ensign, and would seem to brave
With scarce seven hundred, this sea-bound Camp,
Where may be counted, full ten thousand men,
That in the war with France so late, acquir'd
Loud fame, and shook the other continent.
Come on brave soldiers, seize your gleaming arms,
And let this day, in after times be held,
As Minden famous, and each hostile field,
Where British valour, shone victorious.
The time moves slow, which enviously detains,
Our just resentment from these traitors heads.
Their richest farms, and cultur'd settlements,
By winding river, or extensive bay,
Shall be your first reward. Our noble king,
As things confiscate, holds their property,
And in rich measure, will bestow on you,
Who face the frowns, and labour of this day,
He that outlives this battle, shall ascend,
In titled honour, to the height of state,
Dukedoms, and baronies, midst these our foes,
In tributary vassalage, kept down,
Shall be your fair inheritance. Come on,
Beat up th' heroic sound of war. The word,
Is George our sov'reign, and Britannia's arms.

SCENE IV.

Bunkers-Hill.
Warren with the American Army.
Warren.
To arms, brave countrymen, for see the foe,
Comes forth to battle, and would seem to try,
Once more, their fortune in decisive war.
Three thousand, 'gainst seven hundred, rang'd this day,
Shall give the world, an ample specimen,
What strength, and daring confidence, the sound,
Of Liberty inspires. That Liberty,
Which, not the thunder of Bellona's voice,
With fleets, and armies, from the British Shore,
Sall wrest from us. Our noble ancestors,
Out-brav'd the tempests, of the hoary deep,
And on these hills, uncultivate, and wild,
Sought an asylum, from despotic sway;
A short asylum, for that envious power,
With persecution dire, still follows us.
At first, they deem'd our charters forfeited.
Next, our just rights, in government, abridg'd.
Then, thrust in viceroys, and bashaws, to rule,
With lawless sovereignty. Now added force,
Of standing armies, to secure their sway.
Much, have we suffer'd from the licens'd rage,
Of brutal soldiery, in each fair town.
The 5th of March, brave countrymen, that day
When Boston's streets ran blood, remember,
And let the memory, to revenge, stir up,
The temper of your souls. There might we still,
On terms precarious, and disdainful, liv'd,
With daughters ravished, and butcher'd sons,
But heaven, forbade the thought. These are the men,
Who in firm phalanx, threaten us with war,
And aim this day, to fix forever down,
The chains, which haughty tyranny has forg'd for us.
These count our lands and settlements their own,
And in their intercepted letters, speak,
Of forms, and tenements, secur'd for friends,
Which, if they gain, brave soldiers, let with blood,
The purchase, be seal'd down. Let every arm,
This day be active, in fair freedom's cause,
And shower down, from the hill, like Heav'n in wrath,
Full store of lightning, and force iron hail,
To blast the adversary. Let this ascent,
Like burning Ætna or Vesuvius top,
Be wrapt in flame—The word is Liberty,
And Heaven smile on us, in so just a cause.

SCENE IV.

Bunkers-Hill.
Gardiner,
leading up the American Army to the Engagement.
Fear not, brave soldiers, tho' their infantry,
In deep array, so far out-numbers us.
The justice of our cause, will brace each arm,
And steel the soul with fortitude; while they,
Whose guilt, hangs on their consciences.
Must fail in battle, and receive that death,
Which, in high vengeance, we prepare for them.
Let then each spirit, to the height, wound up,
Shew noble vigour, and full force this day.
For on the merit, of our swords, is plac'd,
The virgin honour, and true character,
Of this whole Continent: and one short hour,
May give complexion, to the whole event,
Fixing the judgment whether as base slaves,
We serve these masters, or more nobly live,
Free as the breeze, that on the hill-top, plays,
With these sweet fields, and tenements, our own.
Oh fellow soldiers, let this battle speak,
Dire disappointment, to the insulting foe,
Who claim, our fair possessions, and set down,
These cultur'd-farms, and bowry-hills, and plains;
As the rich prize, of certain victory
Shall we, the sons of Massachusetts,
New-Hampshire, and Connecticut; shall we
Fell back, dishonour'd, from our native plains,
Mix with the savages, and roam for food,
On western mountains, or the desart shores,
Of Canada's cold lakes? or state more vile,
Sit down, in humble vassalage, content
To till the ground for these proud conquerors?
No, fellow soldiers, let us rise this day,
Emancipate, from such ignoble fate.
And should the battle, rob us of our lives,
Late time, shall give, an ample monument,
And bid her worthies, emulate our fame.