Unkindest fortune, still thou changest,
As the wind upon the wave,
The good and bad alike thou rangest,
Undistinguish'd in the grave.
Shall kingly tyrants see thee smiling,
Whilst the brave and just must die,
Them of sweet hope and life beguiling
In the arms of victory?
"Behave this day, my lads, with spirit,
Wrap the hill-top as in flame;
Oh, if we fall, let each one merit,
Immortality in fame.
From this high ground like Vesuv'us
Pour the floods of fire along;
Let not, let not, numbers move us,
We are yet five hundred strong."
V.
Many a widow sore bewailing
Tender husbands, shall remain,
With tears and sorrows, unavailing,
From this hour to mourn them slain.
The rude scene striking all by-standers,
Bids the little band retire,
Who can live like salamanders,
In such floods of liquid fire?
"Ah! Our troops are sorely pressed,
Howe ascends the smoky hill,
Wheel inward, let these ranks be faced,
We have yet some blood to spill.
Our right wing push'd, our left surrounded,
Weight of numbers five to one,
Warren dead, and Gard'ner wounded,
Ammunition is quite gone."
VI.
See the steely points, bright gleaming,
In the sun's fierce dazzling ray,
Groans arising, life-blood streaming,
Purple o'er the face of day.
The field is cover'd with the dying,
Free-men mixt with tyrants lie,
The living with each other vying,
Raise the shout of battle high.
Now brave Putnam, aged soldier,
"Come, my vet'rans, we must yield;
More equal match'd, we'll yet charge bolder,
For the present quit the field.
The God of battles shall revisit,
On their heads each soul that dies,
Take courage, boys, we yet sha'n't miss it,
From a thousand victories."
A SPEECH
By General Washington, on his entering the Town of Boston, at the head of the American Army, after the British troops were by his skilful approaches obliged to abandon it.
Auspicious day, of happiness unmix'd!
When this fair City, without blood-shed won,
Receives to her sweet bosom, once again,
Her free-born sons, of perseverance try'd,
And noble fortitude, in deeds of arms.
Now let the father meet his infant son,
His virgin daughter, and long faithful spouse,
And kiss away all tears, but those of joy.
Now, let the ardent lover clasp his fair,
New flush the red rose in her damask cheek,
Light up the glad beam in her rolling eye,
And bid all pain and sorrowing be gone.
Oh, happy day—Shine on thou blissful sun,
And not one vapour blemish thy career,
Till from thy mid-day champaign, wheeling do
Thou in the western ocean go to rest.
O happy town—Now let thy buildings smile,
Thy streets run down, with silver floods of joy,
And from thy temples, loudly, hymn and song
Sweep the high arches of resounding Heaven.
Yes, fellow soldiers, let us bend to him
Who gave us strength, and confidence of soul,
To meet the Battle and fierce iron war,
Urg'd on severe by the tyrannic foe,
With deadly thunder, and mischievous arms.
To him who with his tempest, bulg'd the deep,
And their full hundred war-ships, on the bay,
Chain'd, with his strong wind, to the North-east shore.
The hand of Heaven, is visible in this,
And we, O God, pour forth our souls in praise.
O fellow soldiers, let our off'rings rise,
Not in rich hecatombs, of bulls and goats,
But in true piety, and light of love,
And warm devotion, in the inward part.
Let your festivity be mix'd with thought,
And sober judgment, on this grand event.
March on, and take true pleasure to your arms,
You all are bridegrooms, to fair joy to-day.