University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Point Levi: Wolfe solus, in his Tent.
The hour is near; and swift upon the wings
Of time the minute rides, pregnant with fate!
And full of dread decision; whether we
Rout them from their fortify'd entrenchments,
Or retreat with loss from Montmorenci,
The purple bed of honour will this day
Be throng'd with British worthies.

[Enter an Officer.]
Sir all the forces are embark'd, the ships
Are station'd for their cover, both officers
And men are in high spirits, and all seem
To be resolutely ready to force
The Gallic lines, and make their landing good.

Wolfe.
The lover pining in the absence of
The fair inchantress of his heart, ne'er felt
Such a flood of joy rush in upon his
Soul, when she returning, charms his ears with
The well known accents of her tongue, as I
Now feel, to hear the welcome tale;—which tale,
Has rous'd me to the onset, and kindled
Ev'ry martial sentiment within my
Soul, I go, at honourable Freedom's
Call. To fight my country's battle.

[Exeunt.
[Curtain falls, thunders, and a discharge of artillery, and small arms, drums beating, and a shout of battle. Curtain rises, and discovers Capt. Ochterlony and Lieut. Peyton, lying wounded among several dead soldiers; Mr. Peyton's leg shatter'd near his knee; he being armed with a fusee, and a dagger. Drum beats a retreat.]
Enter a Serjeant, and some Grenadiers as retreating.
Soldier.
O! dismal sight of grief! here wounded lie
Our Captain and Lieutenant!

Serjeant.
We'll bear them off, tho' thousands dam the pass.
[Speaking to Ochterlony, and reaching him his hand.
Rise worthy Sir, and on my back ascend;
Proud as a miser bears his load of pelf,
Forth rushing from a house inwrapt in flame,
My willing shoulders shall sustain your weight;
Thro' crimson floods, and numbers of the slain:
Another will your good Lieutenant take;
The rest all opposition shall defy,
'Till we in safety shall depose our charge,
Rescu'd from death, and far from scalping foes.

Ochterlony.
My gen'rous men, I ever thought you brave,
And worthy of the fame our troops have gain'd;
I feel I have my mortal wound receiv'd,
Should I retard your quick retreat, you're lost:
I am not therefore worth the hazard of
Your lives, which yet may be of service to
Your country, and in future days revenge
My fall. Here let me lie, in painful joy,
Reflecting on my soldiers proffer'd love;
But bear the gallant Peyton from the field,
I know his valour, and I love the man!
Perhaps the foe may one day feel his worth,
And you his gratitude.

Soldiers.
We'll take you likewise, Sir.

Ochterlony.
Soldiers, no more: I will not hazard lives
So precious to Great-Britain, and my King;
Nor at so great a price, will dearly buy
A few short painful useless moments here:
But oh! fulfil my last my best request!
Preserve my friend; defend his precious life;
And bear him safely hence!

[Ochterlony reclines on a dead body. Soldiers move towards Mr. Peyton.
Peyton.
Stand off soldiers! nor think to take me hence,
O can! can I bear the cruicating thought!
How shall I when amongst our troops arriv'd
E'er cast a look of warm reflection back,
And in idea see my gallant friend,
My Ochterlony! whilst alive forsook!
And by his Peyton too! Oh, then to see him
Drown'd in blood! by savage foes incircled,
Screaming aloud th' infernal yell of joy:
Then see the tomax sink into his head;
His body mangled; and his scalp torn off.
Whilst he perhaps is vainly calling on
His absent friend!—
No Peyton near, to dart like lightning on
Them! and with remorseless amicable
Fury, tread them down among their kindred
Fiends below!

Serjeant.
Consider, Sir, reject not timely aid,
Tho' fractur'd be your bone, vigor remains,
And youth, and time may give that part new strength;
Besides you yet may serve your country.

Peyton.
Serjeant, thou spok'st a dagger to my heart:
For safety, and for life, my country calls,
Then who shall Ochterlony save! pausing a little.

It is resolv'd:—and here will I remain.
[Speaking now in a commanding tone.
Soldiers, with speed retreat while yet you may!

Serjeant.
Farewel, ye brave and much lov'd officers;
We'd gladly bear you hence, and with our lives
At stake defend you both, wou'd you consent;
But here we can no longer safely stay,
Our duty to our country calls us hence;
For from their lofty trenches like a flood,
The Frenchmen pour o'er Montmorenci's field,
And like grim furies from th' infernal coast,
The cruel savage bands are straggling round.

[The Indians yell.]
Hark!
They yell the transport which they'll soon enjoy
Amidst the scalping scene! we promise this,
Our friends once more rejoin'd, we'll rouze them to
Avenge your cause.

[Exeunt soldiers.