 | The battle of Bunkers-Hill |  |
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An ODE on the Battle of BUNKERS-HILL.
[_]
Sung and Acted by a Soldier in a Military Habit, with his Firelock, &c. In the same Measure with a Sea Piece, Entitled the Tempest.
—Cease rude BOREAS, blust'ring railer—
I.
You bold warriors, who resemble,Flames, upon the distant hid,
At whose view, the heroes tremble,
Fighting with unequal skill.
Loud-sounding drums now with hoarse murmurs,
Rouse the spirit up to war,
Fear not, fear not, tho' their numbers,
Much to ours, superior are.
Hear brave Warren bold commanding,
“Gallant souls and vet'rans brave,
“See the enemy just landing,
“From the navy-cover'd wave.
“Close the wings—advance the center—
“Engineers point well your guns—
“Clap the matches, let the rent air,
“Bellow to Britannia's sons.
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II.
Now think you see, three thousand moving,Up the brow of Bunkers-Hill,
Many a gallant vet'ran, shoving,
Cowards on against their will.
The curling volumes all behind them,
Dusky clouds of smoke arise,
Our cannon-balls, brave boys shall find them,
At each shot a heroe dies.
Once more Warren midst this terror,
“Charge brave soldiers charge again,
“Many an expert vet'ran warrior
“Of the enemy is slain.
“Level well your charged pieces,
“In direction to the town;
“They shake, they shake, their light'ning ceases,
“That shot brought six standards down.”
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III.
Maids in virgin beauty blooming,On Britannia's sea-girt isle,
Say no more your swains are coming,
Or with songs the day beguile.
For sleeping sound in death's embraces,
On their clay-cold beds they lie,
Death, grim death, alas defaces,
Youth and pleasure which must die.
“March the right wing Gard'ner yonder,
“Take th' assailing foe in flank,
“The heroe's spirit lives in thunder,
Close there serjeants, close that rank.
“The conflict now doth loudly call on
“Highest proof of martial skill,
“Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on,
“The slipp'ry brow of Bunkers-Hill.”
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IV.
Unkindest fortune, still thou changest,As the wind upon the wave,
The good and bad alike thou rangest,
Undistinguish'd in the grave.
Shall kingly tyrants see thee smiling,
Whilst the brave and just must die,
Them of sweet hope and life beguiling
In the arms of victory.
“Behave this day my lads with spirit,
“Wrap the hill top as in flame;
“Oh if we fall, let each one merit,
“Immortality in fame.
“From this high ground like Vesuv'us
“Pour the floods of fire along;
“Let not, let not, numbers move us,
“We are yet five hundred strong.
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V.
Many a widow sore bewailingTender husbands, shall remain,
With tears and sorrows, unavailing,
From this hour to mourn them slain,
The rude scene striking all by-standers,
Bids the little band retire,
Who can live like salamanders,
In such floods of liquid fire?
“Ah! Our troops are sorely pressed,
“Howe ascends the smoky hill,
“Wheel inward, let these ranks be faced,
“We have yet some blood to spill.
“Our right wing push'd, our left surrounded,
“Weight of numbers five to one,
“Warren dead, and Gard'ner wounded,
“Ammunition is quite gone”.
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VI
See the steely points, bright gleaming,In the sun's fierce dazling ray,
Groans arising, life-blood streaming,
Purple o'er the face of day.
The field is cover'd with the dying,
Free-men mixt with tyrants lie,
The living with each other vying,
Raise the shout of battle high.
Now brave Putnam, aged soldier,
“Come my vet'rans, we must yield;
“More equal match'd, we'll yet charge bolder,
“For the present quit the field.
“The God of battles shall revisit,
“On their heads each soul that dies,
“Take courage boys, we yet shan't miss it,
“From a thousand victories.”
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A SPEECH By General WASHINGTON.
On his entering the Town of Boston, at the Head of the American Army, after the British Troops were by his skilful Approaches obliged to abandon it.
Auspicious day, of happiness unmix'd!When this fair City, without blood-shed won,
Receives to her sweet bosom, once again,
Her free-born sons, of perseverance try'd,
And noble fortitude, in deeds of arms.
Now let the father, meet his infant son,
His virgin daughter, and long faithful spouse,
And kiss away all tears, but those of joy.
Now, let the ardent lover clasp his fair,
New-flush the red rose in her damask cheek,
Light up the glad beam in her rolling eye,
And bid all pain and sorrowing be gone.
Oh happy day—Shine on thou blissful sun,
And not one vapour, blemish thy career,
Till from thy mid-day champaign, wheeling down,
Thou in the western ocean go to rest.
O happy town—Now let thy buildings smile,
Thy streets, run down, with silver floods of joy,
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Sweep, the high arches, of resounding Heaven.
Yes fellow soldiers, let us bend to him
Who gave us strength, and confidence of soul,
To meet the Battle and fierce iron war,
Urg'd on severe by the tyrannic foe,
With deadly thunder, and mischievous arms.
To him who with his tempest, bulg'd the deep,
And their full hundred war-ships, on the bay,
Chain'd, with his strong wind, to the North-east shore.
The hand of Heaven, is visible in this,
And we Oh God, pour forth our souls in praise.
O fellow soldiers let our off'rings rise,
Not in rich hecatombs, of bulls and goats,
But in true piety, and light of love,
And warm devotion, in the inward part,
Let your festivity, be mix'd with thought,
And sober judgment, on this grand event.
March on, and take true pleasure to your arms,
You all are bride grooms, to fair joy to day.
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A MILLITARY SONG, BY THE ARMY: On General Washington's victorious entry into the Town of Boston.
I.
Sons of valour, taste the glories;Of Celestial Liberty,
Sing a Triumph o'er the Tories,
Let the pulse of joy beat high.
II.
Heaven this day hath foil'd the many,Fallacies of George their King,
Let the echo reach Britan'y,
Bid her mountain summits ring.
III.
See yon Navy swell the bosom,Of the late enraged sea,
Where e're they go we shall oppose them,
Sons of valour must be free.
IV.
Should they touch at fair Rhode-Island,There to combat with the brave,
Driven, from each will, and high-land,
They shall plough the purple wave.
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V.
Should they thence, to fair Virgin'yBend a squadron to Dunmore,
Still with fear and ignominy,
They shall quit, the hostile shore.
VI.
To Carolina or to Georg'y,Should they next advance their fame,
This land of heroes shall disgorge the,
Sons of tyranny and shame.
VII.
Let them rove to climes far distant,Situate under Artic skies,
Call on Heffian troops assistant,
And the Savages to rise.
VIII.
Boast of wild brigades from Ruffia,To fix down the galling chain,
Canada and Nova Scotia,
Shall discharge these Hords again.
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IX.
In New-York State, rejoin'd by Clinton,Should their standards mock the air,
Many a surgeon, shall put lint on,
Wounds of death, received there.
X.
War fierce war shall break their forces,Nerves of tory men shall fail,
Seeing Howe with alter'd courses,
Bending to the western gale.
XI.
Thus, from every bay of ocean,Flying back, with sails unfurl'd,
Tost with ever-troubl'd motion,
They shall quit, this smiling world.
XII.
Like Satan banished, from Heaven,Never see, the smiling shore,
From this land so happy, driven,
Never Stain, its bosom more.
| The battle of Bunkers-Hill | |