The Poetical Works of the Revd. Mr. Colvill :: :: University of Virginia Library

Onward to the field where Slaughter
Grim bestrides the crimson'd plain,
Britain bleeds; Repulse has taught her
How the strife of war is vain;
Vain the host who proudly vaunting
Glory in their warlike might,
Vain the battle, Heav'n wanting,
To direct the storm aright.

Hark! the gallant Webster crying,
“Courage, Brothers! of the field;
“What is bleeding! what is dying!
“Britain rests behind your shield.
“Slaves of Bourbon, Slaves of Treason,
“Rob our Country of her right;
“Arms and valour these shall reason
“While we have an arm to fight.”

170

While a thousand deaths were flying,
Fiery Fates destroying round,
One commission'd for his dying,
Sure, too sure, the Hero found.
One step backward proudly bending,
Stagg'ring, pale, the Hero stay'd:
Mortally wounded, yet contending,
Thrice he wav'd his flaming blade.

“Save me, Heaven! from repining;
“Doom of battle is from high!
“Cheerful to my fate resigning,
“For my Country I can die!
“Had just Heav'n pleas'd to lengthen
“Busy life one other day!
“Fleeting life with hope would strengthen
“Britain's trophies to display.

“Hark! another summons calling,
“In these gaping wounds away!
“In the bed of glory falling,
“Let me rest without dismay:
“Brief my passage! life warm streaming
“From my heart where ardours glow
“For my Country, fair hopes gleaming
“Shew their bright'ning scenes below.

“Bear me where Cornwallis gallant
“Swells the onset; 'neath his Eye;
“Lay me where the Free and Valiant
“Greatly for their Country die.”

171

Webster spoke: The Chief declining,
Gash'd with wounds in youthful prime,
Peaceful sunk in death reclining,
Like fresh rose in sultry clime.

Round the clay cold-Hero lying,
Stretch'd on his untimely bier,
Mourn the Brave. Cornwallis sighing
Sheds the Friends, the Soldiers tear.
Tell loud fame the mournful story,
Which will pierce a Monarch's heart:
To his Country, who shall glory
In her Son, the news impart.

Tell his aged Father, stooping
To the grave, his darling Son
Bled for Britain! Tell him drooping
How his glorious race was run!
Tell a Sister's anguish weeping
O'er her Father's, Brother's grave,
Civic honours, with them sleeping,
Crown the Worthiest and the Brave.

St. Andrew's, 1782. St. Salvator's Coll.