Then a tremendous cannonade
Was from the British forces play'd,
But when come to our pallisade,
They received a republican thunder:
Wing'd with death our bullets flew,
It seem'd that each its object knew;
We took good aim, no spot was vain,
The ground was spread with heaps of dead,
The living in a panic fled,
Which made the British wonder.
Then twice again they us attack'd,
And twice again we drove them back,
Too soon for powder we did lack,
Or we'd have killed all the soldiers of Nero.
At length a cursed unlucky shot
Struck Warren in a vital spot:
"I fall" cries he, "for liberty;
I freely bleed if we succeed,
O may my country soon be freed!"
Thus died a republican hero.
GENERAL MONTGOMERY.
The following lines are ascribed to a private who fought under the banners of Montgomery while he lived, and who mourns his untimely fate, in strains which, though not very poetical, are "warm from the heart and faithful to its griefs." COME, soldiers, all in chorus join, And pay a tribute at the shrine
Of brave Montgomery:
Which to the memory is due
Of him who fought and died, that you
Might live and yet be free.
With cheerful and undaunted mind,
Domestic happiness resign'd,
He, with a chosen band,
Through deserts wild, with fix'd intent, Canada for to conquer went,
Or perish, sword in hand.
Six weeks before St. John's we lay,
While cannon on us constant play,
On cold and marshy ground;
When Prescott, forced at length to yield,
Aloud proclaim'd it in the field,
Virtue a friend had found.
To Montreal he wing'd his way,
Which seem'd impatient to obey,
And open wide her gates;
Convinced no force could e'er repel
Troops who had just behaved so well,
Under so hard a fate.
With scarce one-third part of their force,
Then to Quebec he bent his course,
That grave of heroes slain!
The pride of France, the great Montcalm,
And Wolfe, the strength of Britain's arm,
Both fell on Abraham's plain.
Having no less of fame acquired,
There, too, Montgomery expired,
With Cheeseman by his side;
Carleton, 'tis said, his corpse convey'd
To earth in all the grand parade
Of military pride.
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF GEN.
MONTGOMERY.
BY ANN ELIZA BLEECKER.
MELPOMENE, now strike a mournful string,
Montgomery's fate assisting me to sing!
Thou sawst him fall upon the hostile plains
Yet ting'd with blood that gush'd from Montcalm's
Where gallant Wolfe for conquest gave his breath,
Where numerous heroes met the angel death.
Ah! while the loud reiterated roar
Of cannon echoed on from shore to shore,
Benigner Peace, retiring to the shade,
Had gather'd laurel to adorn his head!
The laurel yet shall grace his bust; but, oh!
America must wear sad cypress now.
Dauntless he led her armies to the war,
Invulnerable was his soul to fear:
When they explored their way o'er trackless snows,
Where life's warm tide through every channel froze,
His eloquence made the chill'd bosom glow,
And animated them to meet the foe;
Nor flamed this bright conspicuous grace alone,
The softer virtues in his bosom shone;
It bled with every soldier's recent wound;
He raised the fallen veteran from the ground;
He wiped the eye of grief, it ceased to flow;
His heart vibrated to each sound of wo:
His heart too good his country to betray
For splendid posts or mercenary pay,
Too great to see a virtuous land oppress'd,
Nor strive to have her injuries redress'd.
Oh had but Carleton suffer'd in his stead!
Had half idolatrous Canadia bled!
'Tis not for him but for ourselves we grieve;
Like him to die is better than to live;
His urn by a whole nation's tears bedew'd,
His memory blest by all the great and good:
O'er his pale corpse the marble* soon shall rise,
And the tall column shoot into the skies;
There long his praise by freemen shall be read,
As softly o'er the hero's dust they tread.
BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL.
THE sun, emerging from his bed,
Began to tinge the hills with red;
Unfolding to the distant sight
The heroes brave on Bunker's height-
Determined to be free, or fight
For country's rights and liberty.
Great Warren led his patriot-band
Of heroes nursed in Freedom's land,
Whose sturdy limbs, they boldly swear
No tyrant's chains shall ever wear,
Nor lordly despots ever share
The products of their industry.
Thus fill'd with courage-roused with ire,
Whilst indignation lends its fire,
* In St. Paul's Church, in the city of New York, is a beautiful monument raised to his memory by order of Congress, 1783.
With hasty steps to arms they fly,
And Britain's hosts their look defy,
Resolved to conquer, or to die,
Nor brook disgraceful slavery.
Commission'd by perfidious Gage,
The foe approaches, arm'd with rage;
"Disperse, ye rebels," loud they roar,
"Ye rebels damn'd," nor added more,
But soon they shook the solid shore
With thunders of artillery.
Then Warren snatch'd his shining blade :
But courage cool his words display'd:
"Your fathers' voice cries from their graves,
My generous sons, scorn to be slaves!
Nor ever yield to royal knaves
Your birthright and your legacy."
Together then the armies clash,
And lightnings from their weapons flash!
Now cannons roar! and muskets blaze!
And sheets of fire the hill displays,
Which all the distant towns amaze!
So dreadful was the scenery.
Now blood of heroes stains the ground,
And slaughter'd ranks lie scatter'd round,
And fiercer still the contest grows,
As Putnam rushes on the foes,
And warmly every bosom glows
With hopes of glorious victory.
Twice the foe was put to flight,
And, rallied twice, renew the fight,
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