This is the Fire and Madness of your Youth,
And must be curb'd to do your Country Service.
Facts are not always what they seem to be,
And this perhaps may be the Fault of One
Whom their Laws punish if you once detect him.
Shall we then, to revenge your Countrymen,
To recompense a Wrong by one committed,
Rouse all to Arms, and make a general Slaughter?
'Tis higher Motives move my Mind to War,
And make me zealous in the common Cause.
But hear me—'Tis no Trifle we're upon—
If we have Wisdom, it must now be used;
If we have Numbers, they must be united;
If we have Strength, it must be all exerted;
If we have Courage it must be inflamed,
And every Art and Stratagem be practis'd:
We've more to do than fright a Pigeon Roost,
Or start a timorous Flock of running Deer;
Yes, we've a strong, a warlike stubborn Foe,
Unus'd to be repuls'd and quit the Field,
Nay, flush'd with Victories and long Success,
Their Numbers, Strength, and Courage all renown'd,
'Tis little of them that you see or know.
I've seen their Capital, their Troops and Stores,
Their Ships, their Magazines of Death and Vengeance,
And, what is more, I've seen their potent King,
Who like a God sits over all the World,
And thunders forth his Vengeance thro' the Earth.
When he is pleas'd, Smiles sit upon his Face,
And Goodness flows in Rivers at his Feet;
When he's provok'd, 'tis like a fiery Tempest,
All's Terror and Amazement in his Presence,
And frighted Heroes trembling flee his Wrath.
What then is to be done? what may we hope?
At most, by secret, sly, and subtle Means
To curb these vagrant Outcasts of his Subjects,
Secure our Countries from their further Ravage,
And make ourselves of more Importance to them,
Perhaps procure a Peace to our Advantage.
In this I'll join and head my valiant Troops,
Who will not fail to act a valiant Part.
The Bear.
What is the Greatness of their King to us?
What of his Strength or Wisdom? Shall we fear
A Lion chain'd, or in another World?
Or what avails his flowing Goodness to us?
Does not the ravenous Tyger feed her Young?
And the fierce Panther fawn upon his Mate?
Do not the Wolves defend and help their Fellows,
The poisonous Serpent feed her hissing Brood,
And open wide her Mouth for their Protection?
So this good King shows Kindness to his own,
And favours them, to make a Prey of others;
But at his Hands we may expect no Favour,
Look back, my Friends, to our Forefathers' Time,
Where is their Country? where their pleasant Haunts?
The running Streams and shady Forests where?
They chas'd the flying Game, and liv'd in Plenty.
Lo, these proud Strangers now possess the Whole;
Their Cities, Towns, and Villages arise,
Forests are spoil'd, the Haunts of Game destroy'd,
And all the Sea Coasts made one general Waste;
Between the Rivers Torrent-like they sweep,
And drive our Tribes toward the setting Sun.
They who once liv'd on yon delightful Plains
Are now no more, their very Name is lost.
The Sons of potent Kings, subdu'd and murder'd,
Are Vagrants, and unknown among their Neighbours.
Where will the Ravage stop? the Ruin where?
Does not the Torrent rush with growing Speed,
And hurry us to the same wretched End?
Let us grow wise then by our Fathers' Folly,
Unite our Strength, too long it's been divided,
And mutual Fears and Jealousies obtain'd:
This has encourag'd our encroaching Foes,
But we'll convince them, once, we dare oppose them.
The Wolf.
Yet we have Strength by which we may oppose,
But every Day this Strength declines and fails.
Our great Forefathers, ere these Strangers came,
Liv'd by the Chace, with Nature's Gifts content,
The cooling Fountain quench'd their raging Thirst.
Doctors, and Drugs, and Med'cines were unknown,
Even Age itself was free from Pain and Sickness.
Swift as the Wind, o'er Rocks and Hills they chas'd
The flying Game, the bounding Stag outwinded,
And tir'd the savage Bear, and tam'd the Tyger;
At Evening feasted on the past Day's Toil,
Nor then fatigu'd; the merry Dance and Song
Succeeded; still with every rising Sun
The Sport renew'd; or if some daring Foe
Provok'd their Wrath, they bent the hostile Bow,
Nor waited his Approach, but rush'd with Speed,
Fearless of Hunger, Thirst, Fatigue, or Death.
But we their soften'd Sons, a puny Race,
Are weak in Youth, fear Dangers where they're not;
Are weary'd with what was to them a Sport,
Panting and breathless in One short Hour's Chace;
And every Effort of our Strength is feeble.
We're poison'd with the Infection of our Foes,
Their very Looks and Actions are infectious,
And in deep Silence spread Destruction round them.
Bethink yourselves while any Strength remains;
Dare to be like your Fathers, brave and strong,
Nor further let the growing Poison spread.
And would you stop it, you must resolve to conquer,
Destroy their Forts and Bulwarks, burn their Towns,
And keep them at a greater Distance from us.
Oh! 'tis a Day I long have wish'd to see,
And, aged as I am, my Youth returns
To act with Vigour in so good a Cause.
Yes, you shall see the old Wolf will not fail
To head his Troops, and urge them on to Battle.
Ponteach.
Your Minds are all for War, we'll not delay;
Nor doubt but others gladly will comply,
When they behold our Union and Success.
Tenesco.
This Holy Priest has something to propose
That may excite us all to greater Zeal.
Ponteach.