Go thou and see my parents dear,
And tell them you stood by me here;
Console them when they cry, Alas!
And wipe away the falling tear.
Lieutenant Farwell took his hand,
His arm around his neck he threw,
And said, brave Chaplain, I could wish,
That heaven had made me die for you.
The Chaplain on kind Farwell's breast,
Bloody and languishing he fell;
Nor after this said more, but this,
"I love thee, soldier, fare thee well."
Ah! many a wife shall rend her hair,
And many a child cry, "Wo is me!"
When messengers the news shall bear,
Of Lovewell's dear bought victory.
With footsteps slow shall travellers go,
Where Lovewell's pond shines clear and bright,
And mark the place, where those are laid,
Who fell in Lovewell's bloody fight.
Old men shall shake their heads, and say,
Sad was the hour and terrible,
When Lovewell brave 'gainst Paugus went,
With fifty men from Dunstable.
The fight near Lovewell's Pond was the ground of still another case of literary priority. Nearly a hundred years after its occurrence, on November 17, 1820, the Portland Gazette printed the first poetical venture of a lad of thirteen years. It bore the title of "The Battle of Lovell's Pond." Its author was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
THE BATTLE OF LOVELL'S POND
[May 8, 1725]
Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast
That sweeps like a hurricane loudly and fast,
As it moans through the tall waving pines lone and drear,
Sighs a requiem sad o'er the warrior's bier.