=John Trumbull, 1750-1831.= (Manual, pp. 490, 512.)
From "McFingal."
=317.=
Though this, not all his time was lost on,
He fortified the town of Boston,
Built breastworks that might lend assistance
To keep the patriots at a distance;
For, howsoe'er the rogues might scoff,
He liked them best the farthest off;
Works of important use to aid
His courage when he felt afraid.
* * * * *
For Providence, disposed to tease us,
Can use what instruments it pleases;
To pay a tax, at Peter's wish,
His chief cashier was once a fish.
* * * * *
An English bishop's cur of late
Disclosed rebellions 'gainst the State;
So frogs croaked Pharaoh to repentance,
And lice delayed the fatal sentence:
And Heaven can rain you at pleasure,
By Gage, as soon as by a Caesar.
Yet did our hero in these days
Pick up some laurel-wreaths of praise;
And as the statuary of Seville
Made his cracked saint an excellent devil.
So, though our war small triumph brings,
We gained great fame in other things.
Did not our troops show great discerning,
And skill, your various arts in learning?
Outwent they not each native noodle
By far, in playing Yankee-doodle?
Which, as 'twas your New England tune,
'Twas marvellous they took so soon.
And ere the year was fully through,
Did they not learn to foot it too,
And such a dance as ne'er was known
For twenty miles on end lead down?
Did they not lay their heads together,
And gain your art to tar and feather,
When Colonel Nesbitt, thro' the town,
In triumph bore the country-clown?
Oh! what a glorious work to sing
The veteran troops of Britain's king,
Adventuring for th'heroic laurel
With bag of feathers and tar-barrel!
To paint the cart where culprits ride,
And Nesbitt marching at its side.
Great executioner and proud,
Like hangman high, on Holborn road;
And o'er the slow-drawn rumbling car,
The waving ensigns of the war!
* * * * *
=Philip Freneau, 1752-1832.= (Manual, pp. 486, 511.)