University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Boston.
The British Army being Repuls'd, Sherwin is dispatch'd to General Gage for Assistance.
Sherwin, Gage, Burgoyne, and Clinton.
Sherwin.
Our men advancing, have receiv'd much loss,
In this encounter, and the case demands,
In the swift crisis, of extremity,
A thousand men to reinforce the war.

Gage.
'Tis yours, brave Clinton, to command, these men.
Embark them speedily. I see our troops,
Stand on the margin, of the ebbing flood,
(The flood affrighted, at the scene it views,)
And fear, once more, to climb the desp'rate hill,
Whence the bold rebel, showr's destruction down.

SCENE II.

Warren.
Mortally wounded, falling on his right knee, covering his breast with his right hand, and supporting himself with his firelock in his left.
A deadly ball, hath limited my life,
And now to God, I offer up my soul.
But oh my Countrymen, let not the cause,
The sacred cause of liberty, with me
Faint or expire. By the last parting breath,
And blood of this your fellow soldier slain,
Be now adjur'd, never to yield the right,
The grand deposit of all-giving heaven,
To man's free nature.
With these rude Britons, wage life-scorning was,
'Till they admit it, and like hell fall off,
With ebbing billows, from this troubl'd coast,
Where but for them firm Concord, and true love,
Should individual, hold their court and reign.
Th' infernal engin'ry of state, resist
To death, that unborn times may be secure,
And while men flourish in the peace you win,
Write each fair name with worthies of the earth.
Weep not your Gen'ral, who is snach'd this day,
From the embraces of a family,
Five virgin daughters young, and unendow'd,
Now with the foe left lone and fatherless.
Weep not for him who first espous'd the cause
And risking life have met the enemy,
In fatal opposition—But rejoice—
For now I go to mingle with the dead,
Great Brutus, Hampden, Sidney and the rest,
Of old or modern memory, who liv'd,
A mound to tyrants, and strong hedge to kings,
Bounding the inundation of their rage,
Against the happiness and peace of man,
I see these heroes where they walk serene,
By chrystal currents, on the vale of Heaven,
High in full converse of immortal acts,
Atchiev'd for truth and innocence on earth.
Mean time the harmony and thrilling sound
Of mellow lutes, sweet viols, and guittars,
Dwell on the soul and ravish ev'ry nerve.
Anon the murmur of the tight-brac'd drum,
With finely varied fifes to martial airs,
Wind up the spirit to the mighty proof
Of siege and battle, and attempt in arms
Illustrious group! They beckon me along,
To ray my visage with immortal light,
And bind the amarinth around my brow.
I come, I come, ye first-born of true same.
Fight on my countrymen, be FREE, be FREE.

SCENE III.

Charlestown.
The Reinforcement landed, and Orders given to burn Charlestown, that they might march up more securely under the smoke, General Howe, Rallies his Repuls'd and Broken Troops.
Howe.
Curse on the fortune, of Britannia's arms,
That plays the jilt with us. Shall these few men,
Beat back the flower, and best half of our troops,
While on our side, so many ships of war,
And floating batt'ries, from the mystic tide,
Shake all the hills, and sweep its ridgy top.
Oh Gods! no time, can blot its memory out,
We've men enough, upon the field to day,
To bury, this small handful, with the dust
Our march excites—back to the charge—close ranks.
And drive these wizzards from th' enchanted ground
The reinforcement which bold Clinton heads,
Gives such superiority of strength,
That let each man of us, but cast a stone,
We cover this small hill, with these few foes,
And over head, erect a pyramid.
The smoke, you see, enwraps us in its shade,
On, then, my countrymen, and try once more,
To change the fortune, of the inglorious day.

SCENE IV.

Bunkers-Hill.
Gardiner,
to the American troops on the retreat of the British.
You see, brave soldiers, how an evil cause,
A cause of slavery, and civil death,
Unmans the spirit, and strikes down the soul.
The gallant Englishman, whose fame in arms,
Through every clime, shakes terribly the globe,
Is found this day, shorn off his wonted strength,
Repuls'd, and driven from the flaming hill.
Warren is fallen, on fair honour's bed,
Pierc'd in the breast, with ev'ry wound before,
'Tis ours, now tenfold, to avenge his death,
And offer up, a reg'ment of the foe,
Achilles-like, upon the Heroe's tomb.
See, reinforc'd they face us yet again,
And onward move in Phalanx to the war
Oh noble spirits, let this bold attack,
Be bloody to their host. God is our Aid
Give then full scope, to just revenge this day.