[May 29, 1755]
To arms, to arms! my jolly grenadiers!
Hark, how the drums do roll it along!
To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer;
We'll meet our proud foe before it is long.
Let not your courage fail you;
Be valiant, stout and bold;
And it will soon avail you,
My loyal hearts of gold.
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen! again I say huzzah!
'Tis nobly done,—the day's our own,—huzzah, huzzah!
March on, march on, brave Braddock leads the foremost;
The battle is begun as you may fairly see.
Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over;
We'll soon gain the field from our proud enemy.
A squadron now appears, my boys;
If that they do but stand!
Boys, never fear, be sure you mind
The word of command!
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen! again I say huzzah!
'Tis nobly done,—the day's our own,—huzzah, huzzah!
See how, see how, they break and fly before us!
See how they are scattered all over the plain!
Now, now—now, now our country will adore us!
In peace and in triumph, boys, when we return again!
Then laurels shall our glory crown
For all our actions told:
The hills shall echo all around,
My loyal hearts of gold.
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen! again I say huzzah!
'Tis nobly done,—the day's our own,—huzzah, huzzah!
Braddock, with a picked force of about twelve hundred men, reached the Monongahela July 8 in excellent order, and, on the following morning, with colors flying and drums beating, marched against the fort. The French garrison, under Contrecœur, was in a panic, and ready for flight, but a young captain of regulars named Beaujeu with difficulty obtained permission to take out a small party, mostly Indians, to harass the advancing column. They encountered the English about seven miles from the fort, marching in close order along a narrow road which the pioneers had made. The Indians opened fire, spreading along either flank, and protected by the underbrush. The English, crowded together in the open road, could not see their enemies, and were thrown into confusion. Braddock, wild with rage, refused to permit them to fight in Indian fashion, but beat them back into line with his sword. At last a bullet struck him down, and his troops fled in panic from the field.
[BRADDOCK'S FATE], WITH AN INCITEMENT TO REVENGE
[July 9, 1755]
Come all ye sons of Brittany,
Assist my muse in tragedy,
And mourn brave Braddock's destiny,
And spend a mournful day,
Upon Monongahela fields,
The mighty're fallen o'er their shields;
And British blood bedews the hills
Of western Gilboa.
July the ninth, oh! Fatal Day,
They had a bold and bloody fray,
Our host was smote with a dismay;
Some basely did retire,
And left brave Braddock in the field,
Who had much rather die than yield,
A while his sword he bravely wield
In clouds of smoke and fire.
Some time he bravely stood his ground,
A thousand foes did him surround,
Till he received a mortal wound,
Which forc'd him to retreat.
He dy'd upon the thirteenth day,
As he was home-ward on his way;
Alas! alas! we all must say,
A sore and sad defeat.