At the taking of Charlestown you cut a great figure,
The terms you propounded were terms full of rigor,
Yet could not foresee [poor Charley's] disgrace,
Nor how soon your own colors would go to the case.
When the town had surrender'd, the more to disgrace ye
(Like another true Briton that did it at 'Statia),
You broke all the terms yourself had extended,
Because you supposed the rebellion was ended.
Whoever the Tories mark'd out as a Whig,
If gentle, or simple, or little, or big,
No matter to you—to kill 'em and spite 'em,
You soon had 'em up where the dogs couldn't bite 'em.
Then, thinking these rebels were snug and secure,
You left them to Rawdon and Nesbit Balfour
(The face of the latter no mask need be draw'd on,
And to fish for the devil, my bait should be Rawdon).
Returning to York with your ships and your plunder,
And boasting that rebels must shortly knock under,
The first thing that struck you as soon as you landed
Was the fortress at West Point where Arnold commanded.
Thought you, "If friend Arnold this fort will deliver,
We then shall be masters of all Hudson's river;
The east and the south losing communication,
The Yankees will die by the act of starvation."
So off you sent André (not guided by Pallas),
Who soon purchased Arnold, and with him the gallows;
Your loss, I conceive, than your gain was far greater,
You lost a good fellow and got a damn'd traitor.
Now Carleton comes over to give you relief;
A knight, like yourself, and commander-in-chief;
But the chief he will get, you may tell the dear honey,
Will be a black eye, hard knocks, and no money.
Now, with "Britons, strike home!" your sorrows dispel;
Away to your master, and honestly tell,
That his arms and his artists can nothing avail;
His men are too few, and his tricks are too stale.
Advise him, at length to be just and sincere,
Of which not a symptom as yet doth appear;
As we plainly perceive from his sending Sir Guy,
Commission'd to steal, and commission'd to lie.