SELECTION IX
THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL
He lay upon his dying bed,
His eye was growing dim,
When, with a feeble voice, he called
His weeping son to him:
"Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
"I bow to Heaven's high will;
But quickly from yon antlers bring
The sword of Bunker Hill."
The sword was brought; the soldier's eye
Lit with a sudden flame;
And, as he grasped the ancient blade,
He murmured Warren's name;
Then said: "My boy, I leave you gold,
But what is richer still,
I leave you,—mark me, mark me, now,—
The sword of Bunker Hill.
"'Twas on that dread immortal day,
I dared the Britons' band;
A captain raised his blade on me,
I tore it from his hand;
And while the glorious battle raged,
It lightened Freedom's will;
For, boy, the God of Freedom blessed
The sword of Bunker Hill.
"Oh, keep this sword,"—his accents broke,—
A smile—and he was dead;
But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,
Upon the dying bed.
The son remains, the sword remains,
Its glory growing still,
And eighty millions bless the sire
And sword of Bunker Hill.
William R. Wallace.
The battle of Bunker Hill was fought on the 17th of June, 1775, in Charlestown, Massachusetts. The Americans, after having twice repulsed double their number of the English, were compelled to retreat for want of ammunition. This was the first actual battle of the Revolutionary War.
NOTE:—Joseph Warren, a distinguished American general and patriot, born in Massachusetts in 1741, graduated at Harvard College in 1759. He was killed at the battle of Bunker Hill in 1775.