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+Project Gutenberg's The Battle of Bunkers-Hill, by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Battle of Bunkers-Hill
+
+Author: Hugh Henry Brackenridge
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29225]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
+
+This e-book contains the text of _The Battle of Bunkers-Hill_, extracted
+from Representative Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819.
+Comments and background to all the plays and the other plays are
+available at Project Gutenberg.
+
+Spelling as in the original has been preserved.
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL
+
+_By_
+
+HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE
+
+[Illustration: HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE]
+
+
+
+
+HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE
+
+(1748-1816)
+
+
+The battle of Bunker's Hill was an event which stirred whatever dramatic
+activity there was in America at the time of the Revolution. Therefore,
+a play written on the subject should not be omitted from a collection
+supposed to be representative of the different periods in American
+history and in American thought. The reader has an interesting
+comparison to make in Hugh Henry Brackenridge's play, which the
+title-page declares is "A dramatic piece of five acts, in heroic
+measure, by a gentleman of Maryland," and a later piece entitled "Bunker
+Hill, or the Death of General Warren," written by John Daly Burk
+(1776-1808), who came to America because of certain political
+disturbances, and published his drama with a Dedication to Aaron Burr
+(1797), the year it was given in New York for the first time.[1] It will
+be found that the former play is conceived in a better spirit, and is
+more significant because of the fact that it was written so soon after
+the actual event.
+
+It is natural that Hugh Henry Brackenridge should have been inspired by
+the Revolution, and should have been prompted by the loyal spirit of the
+patriots of the time. For he was the stuff from which patriots are made,
+having, in his early life, been reared in Pennsylvania, even though he
+first saw the light near Campbletown, Scotland, in 1748. His father (who
+moved to America in 1753) was a poor farmer, and Hugh received his
+schooling under precarious conditions, as many boys of that time did. We
+are given pictures of him, trudging thirty miles in all kinds of
+weather, in order to borrow books and newspapers, and we are told that,
+being quick in the learning of languages, he made arrangements with a
+man, who knew mathematics, to trade accomplishments in order that he
+himself might become better skilled in the science of calculation.
+
+At the age of fifteen, he was so well equipped that he was engaged to
+teach school in Maryland, at Gunpowder Falls, some of his pupils being
+so much larger and older than he that, at one time, he had to take a
+brand from the fire, and strike one of them, in order to gain ascendency
+over him.
+
+At eighteen, pocketing whatever money he had saved, he went to President
+Witherspoon, of the College of New Jersey, arranging with that divine to
+teach classes in order that he might afford to remain and study. While
+there, among his classmates may be counted James Madison, future
+president of the United States, Philip Freneau, the poet, and others of
+later note. Aaron Burr was a Junior at the time of Brackenridge's
+graduation, as was William Bradford. Though he was on intimate terms
+with Madison, he was much more the friend of Freneau, the two writing
+together "The Rising Glory of America." Should one take the complete
+piece, which was read by Brackenridge at Commencement, and mark therein
+that part of the poem composed by Freneau, and included later in
+Freneau's published works, one might very readily understand that
+Brackenridge was less the poet, even though in some ways he may have
+been more versatile as a writer.
+
+This piece, "The Rising Glory of America,"[2] is representative of a
+type of drama which was fostered and encouraged by the colleges of the
+time. We find Francis Hopkinson, in the College of Philadelphia, writing
+various dialogues, like his "Exercise: Containing a Dialogue [by the
+Rev. Dr. Smith] and Ode, sacred to the memory of his late gracious
+Majesty George II. Performed at the public commencement in the College
+of Philadelphia, May, 1761." Yet Hopkinson was one of the Signers of the
+Declaration of Independence!
+
+What says Abbé Robin, viewing Harvard in 1781:
+
+    Their pupils often act tragedies, the subject of which is
+    generally taken from their national events, such as the battle
+    of Bunker's Hill, the burning of Charlestown, the death of
+    General Montgomery, the capture of Burgoyne, the treason of
+    Arnold, and the Fall of British Tyranny. You will easily
+    conclude that in such a new nation as this, these pieces must
+    fall infinitely short of that perfection to which our European
+    literary productions of this kind are wrought up; but, still,
+    they have a greater effect upon the mind than the best of ours
+    would have among them, because those manners and customs are
+    delineated, which are peculiar to themselves, and the events are
+    such as interest them above all others. The drama is here
+    reduced to its true and Ancient origin.
+
+Nathaniel Evans also wrote dialogues, performed at the public
+Commencements in Philadelphia, like the one on May 17, 1763. We have
+already noted that "The Prince of Parthia" was written as a college
+play. "The Military Glory of Great Britain" was also prepared as an
+entertainment by the graduates of the College of New Jersey, held in
+Nassau-Hall, September 29, 1762, with the authorship unknown. It was a
+type of play which tempted many men, who later tried their hand at more
+important dramatic work.
+
+Another interesting title of the time ran as follows:
+
+    An/Exercise,/containing/a Dialogue and Ode/On the Accession of
+    His present gracious Majesty,/George III./Performed at the
+    public Commencement in the College of/Philadelphia, May 18th,
+    1762./Philadelphia:/Printed by W. Dunlap, in Market-Street,
+    M,DCC,LXII./
+
+In order to understand the spirit which prompted both Brackenridge and
+Freneau, one needs must turn to an account of the latter's life, and
+learn therefrom certain facts concerning the early college spirit of
+Brackenridge, which was ignored by his son in the only authentic record
+of his life we have.
+
+From Freneau we understand, for example, that, as early as June 24,
+1769, a certain number of students banded themselves into an
+undergraduate fraternity, called the American Whig Society, the chief
+members of that association being Madison, Brackenridge, Bradford, and
+Freneau himself. There is a manuscript book in the possession of the
+Historical Society of Pennsylvania, originally owned by Bradford, and
+containing some of their later poetical tirades. It is called "Satires
+against the Whigs," and is composed of ten pastorals by Brackenridge and
+a number of satires by Freneau. It is strange that the intimacy between
+Brackenridge and Freneau did not lead to their rooming together while at
+College, Brackenridge giving way to James Madison. But we do know that
+the two were very intimately associated in early literary work, and, in
+the manuscript book just mentioned, there is contained the fragment of a
+novel written alternately by the two, and called "Father Bombo's
+Pilgrimage to Mecca in Arabia."
+
+Then followed "The Rising Glory of America," which, when Brackenridge
+graduated, September 25, 1771, was announced on the program of
+events--afternoon division--as being entirely by himself. This must have
+been an oversight, inasmuch as Freneau had more than a mere hand in the
+execution of the piece, and inasmuch as we possess Brackenridge's own
+confession "that on his part it was a task of labour, while the verse of
+his associate flowed spontaneously."
+
+The college life of the time was not devoted entirely to literary
+creativeness or to political discussions. There is published an address
+by President Witherspoon to the inhabitants of Jamaica (1772), in which
+he outlined the course of study to which the students were subjected. It
+indicates, very excellently, the classical training that Brackenridge,
+Freneau, and Madison had to undergo. In fact, we find, on Commencement
+Day, Freneau debating on "Does Ancient Poetry excel the Modern?" and
+throwing all his energy in favour of the affirmative argument. And
+Brackenridge, selected to deliver the Salutatory, rendered it in Latin,
+"De societate hominum." (See Pennsylvania _Chronicle_; John Maclean's
+"History of the College of New Jersey," i, 312; Madison's correspondence
+while a student; also Philip Vickers Fithian's Journal and Letters:
+1764-1774. Student at Princeton College: 1770-1772. Tutor at Nomini Hall
+in Virginia: 1773-1774. Ed. ... by J. R. Williams. Princeton, 1900.) The
+Princeton historian points to this class of 1771 as being so patriotic
+that a unanimous vote was taken to appear at graduation in nothing but
+things of American manufacture.[3]
+
+This much we do know regarding the early life of Brackenridge: that he
+was always pressed for money, that it was his indefatigableness and
+thirst for knowledge which carried him through the schools of the time,
+and through college.
+
+His son even confesses that his father was obliged, on one occasion, to
+write an address which one of the students had to deliver, and to
+receive in payment therefor a new suit of clothes!
+
+It was after his graduation that Brackenridge tutored in the College for
+a while, meantime taking up a course in theology. After this, he
+accepted a position as teacher in a school on the eastern shore of
+Maryland, because the "Academy" offered him a most flattering salary,
+and he could not reject it, however much he may have been interested in
+his college work. No sooner was he established there than he wrote to
+his friend, Freneau, inviting him to take the second position in the
+Maryland Seminary. This position was accepted by Freneau, who wrote to
+James Madison on November 22, 1772, mentioning therein that Brackenridge
+was at the head of Sommerset Academy, to which he himself had come on
+October 18th of that year, and where he was teaching the young idea and
+pursuing at the same time his theological studies.
+
+As illustration of how much Freneau was at heart in tune with the work,
+we note that he says, "We have about thirty students in this Academy who
+prey upon me like leeches."
+
+According to Brackenridge's son, whose Memoir of his father is published
+in the 1846 edition of "Modern Chivalry," there must, however, have been
+in this part of Maryland a polished social atmosphere, which gave ample
+opportunity for the wit, the scholarship, and the conversational and
+social powers of Brackenridge to develop.
+
+For the students of Sommerset Academy, Brackenridge wrote his play, "The
+Battle of Bunkers-Hill,"[4] and though there is no record of this piece
+having been actually presented, it is generally agreed that the
+Principal wrote his drama as an exercise for the pupils to perform. It
+was published anonymously, the fashion of the day which has led to many
+disputes,--for example, as to the authorship claims of John Leacock and
+Mrs. Mercy Warren. Royall Tyler was likewise diffident about letting his
+name appear on the title-page of "The Contrast."
+
+When published in 1776, Brackenridge's piece was dedicated to Richard
+Stockton, and its tone and temper are thoroughly indicative of the
+spirit that must have dominated all his writings while at College.
+
+The year 1776 marks Brackenridge's severance from teaching work. He soon
+after went to Philadelphia with his small fortune of one thousand
+pounds, and continued his efforts to make a livelihood by editing the
+_United States Magazine_, which afforded him an opportunity of airing
+his patriotic views, and gave him the added pleasure of inviting his
+associate, Freneau, to become one of the leading contributors. The
+following year, even though he had never been ordained in the Church,
+Brackenridge, nevertheless, a licensed divine, enlisted as Chaplain in
+the Revolutionary Army, and there are extant a number of vigorous
+political sermons which it was his wont to deliver to the soldiers--the
+same fiery eloquence seen in his "Eulogium on the Brave Men who fell in
+the Contest with Great Britain," delivered in 1778.
+
+Some time elapsed while he travelled hither and thither with a bible in
+his saddle-bags, according to description, and then Brackenridge took up
+the study of law, inasmuch as his very advanced views on religious
+questions would not allow him to subscribe to all the tenets of his
+Presbyterian faith. This drew down upon him the inimical strictures of
+the pulpit, but marked him as a man of intellectual bravery and certain
+moral daring.
+
+Having completed his law reading in Annapolis, under Samuel Chase,
+afterwards Supreme Court Judge, he crossed the Alleghanies, in 1781, and
+established himself in Pittsburgh, where he rapidly grew in reputation,
+through his personal magnetism and his undoubted talents as a lawyer. He
+was strictly in favour of the Federal Constitution, and those who wish
+to fathom his full political importance should not only study his record
+as Judge of the Supreme Court of the State of Pennsylvania, when he was
+appointed by Governor McKean, but, more significant still, the part he
+took in the Whiskey Insurrection, which brought him in touch with Albert
+Gallatin. In accord with the temper of the times, he was a man of party
+politics, although he never allowed his prejudices to interfere with his
+duties on the bench. As a Judge, his term of office ran from 1800 to the
+day of his death, June 25, 1816.
+
+Mr. Brackenridge, besides being the author of the dialogue and play
+mentioned, likewise wrote several other dramas, among them being a
+tragedy, "The Death of General Montgomery at the Siege of Quebec"
+(1777), and a number of Odes and Elegies. The historical student will
+find much material relating to Brackenridge's political manoeuvres, in
+his book on the Western Insurrection; but probably as an author he is
+more justly famous for his series of stories and sketches published
+under the title, "Modern Chivalry" (1792), and representing a certain
+type of prose writing distinctive of American letters of the time of
+Clay and Crawford. These impressions were later added to. It is a type
+to be compared with the literary work done in the Southern States by J.
+J. Hooper, Judge Longstreet, and Judge Baldwin in ante-bellum days.
+
+Among Brackenridge's other works may be mentioned:
+
+An account of Pittsburgh in 1786. (Pittsburgh _Gazette_, July 29, 1786.
+Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh: _Monthly Bulletin_, 1902, v., 257-262,
+288-290, 332-335.)
+
+The Adventures of Captain Farrago. Philadelphia, 1856.
+
+The Adventures of Major O'Regan. Philadelphia, 1856.
+
+Gazette Publications. Carlisle, 1806.
+
+Incidents of the Insurrection in the western parts of Pennsylvania.
+Philadelphia, 1795.
+
+Law Miscellanies. Philadelphia, 1814.
+
+Narrative of the late Expedition against the Indians. 1798.
+
+An Occasional Paper by Democritus, entitled "The Standard of Liberty."
+1802.
+
+Political Miscellany. 1793.
+
+There are many plays extant dealing specifically with events connected
+with the Revolution and the War of 1812. For a discussion of same, see
+an article by A. E. Lancaster, "Historical American Plays,"
+_Chautauquan_, 31:359-364, 1900; also see the present editor's "The
+American Dramatist," Chapter III. Note the following plays particularly:
+
+C. E. GRICE. "The Battle of New Orleans; or, Glory, Love and Loyalty."
+An Historical and National Drama. 1816.
+
+W. IOOR. "The Battle of the Eutaw Springs, and Evacuation of Charleston;
+or, the Glorious 14th of December, 1782." A National Drama. Played in
+Charleston, 1817.
+
+S. B. H. JUDAH. "A Tale of Lexington." A National Comedy, founded on the
+opening of the Revolution. 1823.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] Burk wrote another play, "Female Patriotism; or, The Death of Joan
+d'Arc," given a New York production in 1798. An interesting letter from
+Burk to J. Hodgkinson, who produced his "Bunker Hill," is to be found in
+Dunlap's "The American Theatre" (London, 1833, i, 313). The play has
+been reissued by the Dunlap Society (1891, no. 15), and edited, with an
+introduction by Brander Matthews.
+
+[2] Philadelphia:/Printed by Joseph Crukshank, for R.
+Aitken,/Bookseller, Opposite the London-Coffee-/House, in
+Front-Street./M,DCC,LXXII./
+
+[3] The students of Princeton have not revived the "Battle of
+Bunkers-Hill," but they point still with some pride to the ivy which was
+planted by the class of 1771.
+
+[4] The/Battle/of/Bunkers-Hill./A Dramatic Piece,/of Five Acts,/in
+Heroic Measure. /By a Gentleman of Maryland./--Pulcrumque mori succurrit
+in armis./Virgil./--'Tis glorious to die in Battle.--/Philadelphia:/
+Printed and Sold by Robert Bell, in Third-Street./MDCCLXXVI./
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE
+
+BATTLE
+
+OF
+
+BUNKERS-HILL.
+
+A DRAMATIC PIECE,
+
+OF FIVE ACTS,
+
+IN HEROIC MEASURE.
+
+
+BY A GENTLEMAN OF MARYLAND.
+
+
+----_Pulcrumque mori succurrit in armis._
+
+VIRGIL.
+
+'Tis glorious to die in Battle.
+
+
+PHILADELPHIA:
+
+Printed and Sold by ROBERT BELL, in Third-Street.
+
+MDCCLXXVI.
+
+
+FAC-SIMILE TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION]
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+RICHARD STOCKTON, _Esquire_;
+
+MEMBER
+
+OF THE HONOURABLE,
+
+THE
+
+CONTINENTAL CONGRESS,
+
+for the State
+
+of
+
+NEW-JERSEY.
+
+SIR,
+
+I take the Freedom to Inscribe with YOUR Name, the following short
+Performance in Honour of some brave MEN, who have fallen in the Cause of
+LIBERTY.
+
+It was at first drawn up for an Exercise in Oratory, to a number of
+young Gentlemen in a southern Academy, but being now Published, may
+serve the same Purpose, in other AMERICAN Seminaries.
+
+The many Civilities, received from YOUR Family, at an earlier Period of
+my Life, while a Student at NEW-JERSEY College, demand the warmest
+Gratitude; and I do continually, with the most sincere Pleasure,
+recollect and acknowledge them.
+
+It is my fervent wish, that the Ruler of the Universe may Crown with
+Success, the Cause of FREEDOM, and speedily relieve our bleeding Country
+in whose Service YOU have distinguishedly exerted YOUR eminent
+Abilities, by assisting HER Deliberations in the grand Council of the
+Empire.
+
+SIR,
+
+I am,
+With great Respect,
+Your much obliged,
+and most humble Servant,
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+to the
+
+BATTLE
+
+of
+
+BUNKERS-HILL
+
+_By a Lieutenant Colonel in the CONTINENTAL ARMY._
+
+
+This mighty Era big with dread alarms,
+Aloud calls each AMERICAN to arms.
+Let ev'ry Breast with martial ardour glow,
+Nor dread to meet the proud usurping foe.
+What tho' our bodies feel an earthly chain,
+Still the free soul, unblemish'd and serene
+Enjoys a mental LIBERTY,--a charm,
+Beyond the power of fate itself to harm.
+Should vict'ry crown us in the doubtful strife--
+Eternal honours mark the hero's life.
+Should Wounds and slaughter be our hapless doom--
+Unfading laurels deck the Martyr's Tomb:
+A sure reward awaits his soul on high,
+On earth his memory shall never die,
+For when we read the fatal story o'er,
+One tear shall drop for him who is--no more,
+Who nobly struggled to support our laws,
+And bravely fell in freedom's sacred cause.
+  Let virtue fire us to the martial deed;
+We fight to conquer and we dare to bleed:
+Witness ye fathers! whose protracted time,
+Fruitful of story, chronicles the clime.
+These howling deserts, hospitably tame,
+Erst snatch'd you martyrs, from the hungry flame;
+'Twas Heav'n's own cause, beneath whose shelt'ring power,
+Ye grew the wonder of this present hour--
+The task--be ours with unremitted toil,         }
+To guard the rights of this dear-purchas'd soil,}
+From Royal plund'rers, greedy of our spoil,     }
+Who come resolv'd to murder and enslave,
+To shackle FREEMEN and to rob the brave.
+The loud mouth'd cannon threaten from afar,
+Be this our comfort in the storm of war--
+Who fights, to take our liberty away,
+Dead-hearted fights, and falls an easy prey.
+Then, on my brethren to the embattl'd plain,
+Who shrinks with fear, anticipates a chain.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+WARREN     }
+PUTNAM     } _American Officers._
+GARDINER   }
+
+GAGE       }
+HOWE       }
+BURGOYNE   } _British Officers._
+CLINTON    }
+LORD PIGOT }
+
+SHERWIN, _Aide-de-camp to General Howe._
+
+Soldiers, &c.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+BATTLE
+
+OF
+
+BUNKERS-HILL
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Camp at Cambridge._
+
+_Enter WARREN, PUTNAM, and GARDINER._
+
+WARREN.
+
+  Why thus, brave Putnam, shall we still encamp
+Inactive here; and with this gentle flood,
+By Cambridge murmuring, mix briny tears?
+Salt tears of grief by many a parent shed,
+For sons detain'd, and tender innocents
+In yon fair City, famishing for bread;
+For not fond mothers or their weeping babes--
+Can move the hard heart of relentless Gage.
+Perfidious man! Who pledg'd his oath so late,
+And word of honour to those patriots
+Yet in his power, that yielding him their arms,
+They should receive permission to depart,
+And join once more their valiant countrymen;
+But now detains as hostages these men,
+In low damp dungeons, and in gaols chain'd down
+While grief and famine on their vitals prey.
+Say, noble Putnam, shall we hear of this,
+And let our idle swords rust in the sheath,
+While slaves of Royal Power impeach our worth
+As vain, and call our patience cowardice?
+
+PUTNAM.
+
+  Not less, bold Warren, have I felt the pangs
+Of woe severe in this calamity:
+And could I with my life redeem the times,
+The richest blood that circles round my heart,
+Should hastily be shed. But what avails
+The genuine flame and vigour of the soul,
+When nature's self, and all the strength of art,
+Opposes every effort in our power?
+These sons of slavery dare not advance,
+And meet in equal fight our hostile arms.
+For yet they well remember LEXINGTON,
+And what they suffer'd on that rueful day,
+When wantoning in savage rage, they march'd
+Onward to CONCORD, in a firm array,
+Mock music playing, and the ample flag
+Of tyranny display'd; but with dire loss
+And infamy drove back, they gain'd the town,
+And under cover of their ships of war,
+Retir'd, confounded and dismay'd. No more
+In mirthful mood to combat us, or mix
+Their jocund music with the sounds of war.
+To tempt no more unequal fight with men,
+Who to oppose dire arbitrary sway,
+Have grasp'd the sword: and resolute to brave
+Death in a thousand dreary shapes, can know,
+In the warm breast, no sentiment of fear.
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  The free born spirit of immortal fire
+Is stranger to ignoble deeds, and shuns
+The name of cowardice. But well thy mind,
+Sage, and matur'd by long experience, weighs
+The perilous attempt, to storm the town,
+And rescue thence, the suff'ring citizens.
+For but one pass to that peninsula,
+On which the city stands, on all sides barr'd.
+And here what numbers can supply the rage,
+Of the all devouring, deep mouth'd cannon, plac'd,
+On many a strong redoubt: while on each side,
+The ships of war, moor'd, in the winding bay,
+Can sweep ten thousand from the level beach,
+"And render all access impregnable."
+
+WARREN.
+
+  True, valiant Gard'ner, the attempt is vain,
+To force that entrance to the sea-girt town;
+Which while we hop'd for peace, and in that view,
+Kept back our swords, we saw them fortify.
+But what if haply, with a chosen few,
+Led through the midnight shades, yon heights were gain'd,
+And that contiguous hill, whose grassy foot,
+By Mystic's gentle tide is wash'd. Here rais'd,
+Strong batt'ries jutting o'er the level sea,
+With everlasting thunder, shall annoy
+Their navy far beneath; and in some lucky hour,
+When dubious darkness on the land is spread,
+A chosen band may pierce their sep'rate fleet,
+And in swift boats, across the narrow tide,
+Pour like a flame, on their unguarded ranks,
+And wither them: As when an angel smote
+The Assyrian camp. The proud Sennacherib,
+With impious rage, against the hill of God,
+Blasphem'd. Low humbl'd, when the dawning light,
+Saw all his host dead men: So yet I trust,
+The God of battles will avouch our cause,
+And those proud champions of despotic power,
+Who turn our fasting to their mirth, and mock
+Our prayers, naming us the SAINTS, shall yet,
+Repay with blood, the tears and agonies,
+Of tender mothers, and their infant babes,
+Shut up in BOSTON.
+
+PUTNAM.
+
+                     Heaven, smile on us then,
+And favour this attempt. Now from our troops,
+Seven hundred gallant men, and skill'd in arms,
+With speed select, choice spirits of the war.
+By you led on, brave Gard'ner, to the heights,
+Ere yet the morn with dawning light breaks forth,
+Intrench on BUNKERS-HILL; and when the day
+First o'er the hill top rises, we shall join
+United arms, against the assailing foe,
+Should they attempt to cross the narrow tide,
+In deep battalion to regain the hill.
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  The thought is perilous, and many men,
+In this bold enterprise, must strew the ground.
+But since we combat in the cause of God,
+I draw my sword, nor shall the sheath again
+Receive the shining blade, till on the heights
+Of CHARLES-TOWN, and BUNKER'S pleasant HILL,
+It drinks the blood of many a warrior slain.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Boston._
+
+_Enter GAGE, HOWE, and BURGOYNE._
+
+BURGOYNE.
+
+  How long, brave gen'rals, shall the rebel foe,
+In vain arrangements, and mock siege, display
+Their haughty insolence?--Shall in this town,
+So many thousands, of _Britannia's_ troops,
+With watch incessant, and sore toil oppress'd,
+Remain besieg'd? A vet'ran army pent,
+In the inclosure, of so small a space,
+By a disorder'd herd, untaught, unofficer'd.
+Let not sweet Heav'n, the envious mouth of fame,
+With breath malignant, o'er the Atlantic wave
+Bear this to Europe's shores, or tell to France,
+Or haughty Spain, of LEXINGTON'S retreat.
+Who could have thought it, in the womb of time,
+That _British_ soldiers, in this latter age,
+Beat back by peasants, and in flight disgrac'd,
+Could tamely brook the base discomfiture;
+Nor sallying out, with spirit reassum'd,
+Exact due tribute of their victory?
+Drive back the foe, to Alleghany hills,
+In woody valleys, or on mountain tops,
+To mix with wolves and kindred savages.
+
+GAGE.
+
+  This mighty paradox, will soon dissolve.
+Hear first, Burgoyne, the valour of these men,
+Fir'd with the zeal, of fiercest liberty,
+No fear of death, so terrible to all,
+Can stop their rage. Grey-headed clergymen,
+With holy bible, and continual prayer,
+Bear up their fortitude--and talk of heav'n,
+And tell them, that sweet soul, who dies in battle,
+Shall walk, with spirits of the just. These words
+Add wings to native rage, and hurry them
+Impetuous to war. Nor yet in arms
+Unpractised. The day of LEXINGTON
+A sad conviction gave our soldiery,
+That these AMERICANS, were not that herd,
+And rout ungovern'd, which we painted them.
+
+HOWE.
+
+  Not strange to your maturer thought, Burgoyne,
+This matter will appear. A people brave,
+Who never yet, of luxury, or soft
+Delights, effeminate, and false, have tasted.
+But, through hate of chains, and slav'ry, suppos'd,
+Forsake their mountain tops, and rush to arms.
+Oft have I heard their valour published:
+Their perseverance, and untamable,
+Fierce mind, when late they fought with us, and drove,
+The French encroaching on their settlements,
+Back to their frozen lakes. Or when with us
+On Cape Breton, they stormed Louisburg.
+With us in Canada, they took Quebec;
+And at the Havannah, these NEW-ENGLAND MEN,
+Led on by Putnam, acted gallantly.
+I had a brother once, who in that war,
+With fame commanded them, and when he fell,
+Not unlamented; for these warriors,
+So brave themselves, and sensible of merit,
+Erected him a costly monument;
+And much it grieves me that I draw my sword,
+For this late insurrection and revolt,
+To chastise them. Would to Almighty God,
+The task unnatural, had been assign'd,
+Elsewhere. But since by Heaven, determined,
+Let's on, and wipe the day of LEXINGTON,
+Thus soil'd, quite from our soldiers' memories.
+This reinforcement, which with us have fail'd,
+In many a transport, from _Britannia's_ shores,
+Will give new vigour to the Royal Arms,
+And crush rebellion, in its infancy.
+Let's on, and from this siege, calamitous,
+Assert our liberty; nay, rather die,
+Transfix'd in battle, by their bayonets,
+Than thus remain, the scoff and ridicule
+Of gibing wits, and paltry gazetteers,
+On this, their madding continent, who cry,
+Where is the _British_ valour: that renown
+Which spoke in thunder, to the Gallic shores?
+That spirit is evaporate, that fire;
+Which erst distinguish'd them, that flame;
+And gen'rous energy of soul, which fill'd
+Their Henrys, Edwards, thunder-bolts of war;
+Their Hampdens, Marlboroughs, and the immortal Wolfe,
+On the Abraham heights, victorious.
+_Britannia's_ genius, is unfortunate,
+And flags, say they, when Royal tyranny
+Directs her arms. This let us then disprove,
+In combat speedily, and take from them,
+The wantonness of this fell pride, and boasting.
+
+GAGE.
+
+  Tho' much I dread the issue of the attempt,
+So full of hazard, and advent'rous spirit;
+Yet since your judgment, and high skill in arms,
+From full experience, boldly prompts you on,
+I give my voice, and when one day hath pass'd,
+In whose swift hours, may be wrought, highly up,
+The resolution, of the soldiery,
+With soothing words, and ample promises,
+Of rich rewards, in lands and settlements,
+From the confiscate property throughout,
+These rebel colonies, at length subdu'd;
+Then march we forth, beat up their drowsy camp,
+And with the sun, to this safe capital,
+Return, rich, with the triumphs of the war.
+And be our plan, that which brave Haldiman,
+Ere yet recall'd, advis'd to us. Let first,
+Brave Howe, and Clinton, on that western point,
+Land with the transports, and mean time Burgoyne,
+With the artillery, pour sharp cannonade,
+Along the neck, and sweep, the beachy plain,
+Which lies to Roxborough, where yon western stream,
+Flowing from Cambridge, mixes with the Bay.
+Thus, these AMERICANS, shall learn to dread,
+The force of discipline, and skill in arms.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_Enter GARDINER, with seven hundred men._
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  This is the hill, brave countrymen, whose brow
+We mean to fortify. A strong redoubt,
+With saliant angles, and embrasures deep,
+Be speedily thrown up. Let each himself,
+Not undeserving, of our choice approve,
+For out of thousands, I have challeng'd you,
+To this bold enterprise, as men of might,
+And valour eminent, and such this day,
+I trust, will honour you. Let each his spade,
+And pick-axe, vig'rously, in this hard soil,
+Where I have laid, the curved line, exert.
+For now the morning star, bright Lucifer,
+Peers on the firmament, and soon the day,
+Flush'd with the golden sun, shall visit us.
+Then gallant countrymen, should faithless Gage,
+Pour forth his lean, and half-starv'd myrmidons;
+We'll make them taste our cartridges, and know,
+What rugged steel, our bayonets are made of;
+Or if o'er charg'd, with numbers, bravely fall,
+Like those three hundred at Thermopylæ,
+And give our Country, credit in our deaths.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Boston._
+
+GAGE [_solus_].
+
+  Oh, sweet tranquillity, and peace of soul,
+That in the bosom of the cottager,
+Tak'st up thy residence--cannot the beams,
+Of royal sunshine, call thee to my breast?
+Fair honour, waits on thee, renown abroad,
+And high dominion, o'er this Continent,
+Soon as the spirit, of rebellious war,
+Is scourg'd into obedience. Why then, ye Gods,
+This inward gnawing, and remorse of thought,
+For perfidy, and breach of promises!
+Why should the spouse, or weeping infant babe,
+Or meek ey'd virgin, with her sallow cheek,
+The rose by famine, wither'd out of it;
+Or why the father, or his youthful son,
+By me detain'd, from all their relatives,
+And, in low dungeons, and, in Gaols chain'd down,
+Affect my spirit, when the mighty cause,
+Of _George_ and _Britain_, is endangered?
+For nobly struggling, in the cause of kings,
+We claim the high, the just prerogative,
+To rule mankind, and with an iron rod,
+Exact submission, due, tho' absolute.
+What tho' they style me, villain, murderer,
+And imprecate from Heaven, dire thunderbolts,
+To crush my purposes--Was that a gun,
+Which thunders o'er the wave?--Or is it guilt,
+That plays the coward, with my trembling heart,
+And cools the blood, with frightful images.
+O guilt, thy blackness, hovers on the mind,
+Nor can the morning dissipate thy shades.
+Yon ruddy morn, which over BUNKERS-HILL,
+Advancing slowly, blushes to the bay,
+And tips with gold the spires of CHARLES-TOWN.
+
+_Enter BURGOYNE._
+
+  The rebel foe, grown yet more insolent,
+By that small loss, or rout, at LEXINGTON,
+Prevent our purpose and the night by-past,
+Have push'd intrenchments, and some flimsy works,
+With rude achievement, on the rocky brow,
+Of that tall hill. A ship-boy, with the day,
+From the tall mast-head, of the Admiral,
+Descry'd their aim, and gave the swift alarm.
+Our glasses mark, but one small regiment there,
+Yet, ev'ry hour we languish in delay,
+Inspires fresh hope, and fills their pig'my souls,
+With thoughts of holding it. You hear the sound
+Of spades and pick-axes, upon the hill,
+Incessant, pounding, like old Vulcan's forge,
+Urg'd by the Cyclops.
+
+_Enter HOWE._
+
+  To your alarm posts, officers; come, gallant souls,
+Let's out, and drive them from that eminence,
+On which the foe, doth earth himself.
+I relish not, such haughty neighbourhood.
+Give orders, swiftly, to the Admiral,
+That some stout ship heave up the narrow bay,
+And pour indignant, from the full-tide wave,
+Fierce cannonade, across the isthmus point,
+That no assistance may be brought to them.
+If but seven hundred, we can treat with them.
+Yes, strew the hill, with death, and carcasses,
+And offer up, this band, a hecatomb,
+To _Britain's_ glory, and the cause of kings.
+
+                                        [_Exeunt BURGOYNE and HOWE._
+
+GAGE [_solus_].
+
+  May Heaven protect us, from their rage, I say,
+When but a boy, I dream'd of death in bed,
+And ever since that time, I hated things
+Which put him, like a pair of spectacles,
+Before my eyes. The thought lies deep in fate,
+Nor can a mortal see the bottom of it.
+'Tis here--'Tis there--I could philosophize--
+Eternity, is like a winding sheet--
+The seven commandments like--I think there's seven--
+I scratch my head--but yet in vain I scratch--
+Oh Bute, and Dartmouth, knew ye what I feel,
+You sure would pity an old drinking man,
+That has more heart-ake, than philosophy.                     [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _HOWE with the British Army._
+
+HOWE.
+
+  The day at length, propitious shews itself,
+And with full beams of majesty, the sun,
+Hath bless'd its fair nativity; when Heaven,
+Brave soldiers, and the cause of kings,
+Calls on the spirit of your loyalty,
+To chastise this rebellion, and tread down,
+Such foul ingratitude--such monstrous shape,
+Of horrid liberty, which spurns that love--
+That fond maternal tenderness of soul,
+Which on this dreary coast, first planted them:
+Restrain'd the rage, of murdering savages,
+Which, with fierce inroad, on their settlements,
+Made frequent war--struck down the arm of France,
+Just rais'd, to crush them, in their infancy:
+And since that time, have bade their cities grow,
+To marts of trade: call'd fair-ey'd commerce forth,
+To share dominion, on the distant wave,
+And visit every clime, and foreign shore.
+Yet this, brave soldiers, is the proud return,
+For the best blood of _England_, shed for them.
+Behold yon hill, where fell rebellion rears
+Her snake-stream'd ensign, and would seem to brave
+With scarce seven hundred, this sea-bounded Camp,
+Where may be counted, full ten thousand men,
+That in the war with France so late, acquir'd
+Loud fame, and shook the other continent.
+Come on, brave soldiers, seize your gleaming arms,
+And let this day, in after times be held,
+As Minden famous, and each hostile field,
+Where _British_ valour shone victorious.
+The time moves slow, which enviously detains,
+Our just resentment from these traitors' heads.
+Their richest farms, and cultur'd settlements,
+By winding river, or extensive bay,
+Shall be your first reward. Our noble king,
+As things confiscate, holds their property,
+And in rich measure, will bestow on you,
+Who face the frowns, and labour of this day.
+He that outlives this battle, shall ascend,
+In titled honour, to the height of state,
+Dukedoms, and baronies, midst these our foes,
+In tributary vassalage, kept down,
+Shall be your fair inheritance. Come on,
+Beat up th' heroic sound of war. The word
+Is, _George_ our sov'reign, and _Britannia's_ arms.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_WARREN with the American Army._
+
+WARREN.
+
+  To arms, brave countrymen, for see the foe
+Comes forth to battle, and would seem to try,
+Once more, their fortune in decisive war.
+Three thousand, 'gainst seven hundred, rang'd this day,
+Shall give the world, an ample specimen,
+What strength, and noble confidence, the sound
+Of Liberty inspires. That Liberty,
+Which, not the thunder of Bellona's voice,
+With fleets, and armies, from the _British_ Shore,
+Shall wrest from us. Our noble ancestors,
+Out-brav'd the tempests, of the hoary deep,
+And on these hills, uncultivate, and wild,
+Sought an asylum, from despotic sway;
+A short asylum, for that envious power,
+With persecution dire, still follows us.
+At first, they deem'd our charters forfeited,
+Next, our just rights, in government, abridg'd.
+Then, thrust in viceroys, and bashaws, to rule,
+With lawless sovereignty. Now added force,
+Of standing armies, to secure their sway.
+Much have we suffer'd from the licens'd rage,
+Of brutal soldiery, in each fair town.
+Remember March, brave countrymen, that day
+When BOSTON'S streets ran blood. Think on that day,
+And let the memory, to revenge, stir up,
+The temper of your souls. There might we still,
+On terms precarious, and disdainful liv'd,
+With daughters ravished, and butcher'd sons,
+But Heaven forbade the thought. These are the men,
+Who in firm phalanx, threaten us with war,
+And aim this day, to fix forever down,
+The galling chains, which tyranny has forg'd for us,
+These count our lands and settlements their own,
+And in their intercepted letters, speak,
+Of farms, and tenements, secured for friends,
+Which, if they gain, brave soldiers, let with blood,
+The purchase, be seal'd down. Let every arm,
+This day be active, in fair freedom's cause,
+And shower down, from the hill, like Heav'n in wrath,
+Full store of lightning, and fierce iron hail,
+To blast the adversary. Let this ground,
+Like burning Ætna or Vesuvius top,
+Be wrapt in flame--The word is, LIBERTY,
+And Heaven smile on us, in so just a cause.
+
+
+SCENE II. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+GARDINER [_leading up his men to the engagement_].
+
+  Fear not, brave soldiers, tho' their infantry,
+In deep array, so far out-numbers us.
+The justness of our cause, will brace each arm,
+And steel the soul, with fortitude; while they,
+Whose guilt hangs trembling, on their consciences,
+Must fail in battle, and receive that death,
+Which, in high vengeance, we prepare for them.
+Let then each spirit, to the height, would up,
+Shew noble vigour, and full force this day.
+For on the merit, of our swords, is plac'd,
+The virgin honour, and true character,
+Of this whole Continent: and one short hour,
+May give complexion, to the whole event,
+Fixing the judgment whether as base slaves,
+We serve these masters, or more nobly live,
+Free as the breeze, that on the hill-top, plays,
+With these sweet fields, and tenements, our own.
+O fellow soldiers, let this battle speak,
+Dire disappointment, to the insulting foe,
+Who claim our fair possessions, and set down,
+These cultur'd-farms, and bowry-hills, and plains,
+As the rich prize, of certain victory.
+Shall we, the sons of MASSACHUSETTS-BAY,
+NEW HAMPSHIRE, and CONNECTICUT; shall we
+Fall back, dishonour'd, from our native plains,
+Mix with the savages, and roam for food,
+On western mountains, or the desert shores,
+Of Canada's cold lakes? or state more vile,
+Sit down, in humble vassalage, content
+To till the ground for these proud conquerors?
+No, fellow soldiers, let us rise this day,
+Emancipate, from such ignoble choice.
+And should the battle ravish our sweet lives,
+Late time shall give, an ample monument,
+And bid her worthies, emulate our fame.
+
+
+SCENE III. _Boston._
+
+_The British Army being repuls'd, SHERWIN is dispatch'd to GENERAL
+  GAGE, for assistance._
+
+_SHERWIN, GAGE, BURGOYNE, and CLINTON._
+
+SHERWIN.
+
+  Our men advancing, have receiv'd dire loss,
+In this encounter, and the case demands,
+In swift crisis, of extremity,
+A thousand men to reinforce the war.
+
+GAGE.
+
+  Do as you please, Burgoyne, in this affair,
+I'll hide myself in some deep vault beneath.
+
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+BURGOYNE.
+
+  'Tis yours, brave Clinton, to command, these men.
+Embark them speedily. I see our troops,
+Stand on the margin of the ebbing flood
+(The flood affrighted, at the scene it views),
+And fear, once more, to climb the desp'rate hill,
+Whence the bold rebel, show'rs destruction down.            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+WARREN.
+
+_Mortally wounded, falling on his right knee, covering his breast with
+  his right hand, and supporting himself with his firelock in his
+  left._
+
+  A deadly ball hath limited my life,
+And now to God, I offer up my soul.
+But O my Countrymen, let not the cause,
+The sacred cause of liberty, with me
+Faint or expire. By the last parting breath,
+And blood of this your fellow soldier slain,
+Be now adjur'd, never to yield the right,
+The grand deposit of all-giving Heaven,
+To man's free nature, that he rule himself.
+With these rude Britons, wage life-scorning war,
+Till they admit it, and like hell fall off,
+With ebbing billows, from this troubl'd coast,
+Where but for them firm Concord, and true love,
+Should individual, hold their court and reign.
+Th' infernal engin'ry of state, resist
+To death, that unborn times may be secure,
+And while men flourish in the peace you win,
+Write each fair name with worthies of the earth.
+Weep not your Gen'ral, who is snatch'd this day,
+From the embraces of a family,
+Five virgin daughters young, and unendow'd,
+Now with the foe left lone and fatherless.
+Weep not for him who first espous'd the cause
+And risking life have met the enemy,
+In fatal opposition--But rejoice--
+For now I go to mingle with the dead,
+Great Brutus, Hampden, Sidney, and the rest,
+Of old or modern memory, who liv'd,
+A mound to tyrants, and strong hedge to kings,
+Bounding the inundation of their rage,
+Against the happiness and peace of man.
+I see these heroes where they walk serene,
+By crystal currents, on the vale of Heaven,
+High in full converse of immortal acts,
+Achiev'd for truth and innocence on earth.
+Mean time the harmony and thrilling sound
+Of mellow lutes, sweet viols, and guitars,
+Dwell on the soul and ravish ev'ry nerve.
+Anon the murmur of the tight-brac'd drum,
+With finely varied fifes to martial airs,
+Wind up the spirit to the mighty proof
+Of siege and battle, and attempt in arms.
+Illustrious group! They beckon me along,
+To ray my visage with immortal light,
+And bind the amarinth around my brow.
+I come, I come, ye first-born of true fame.
+Fight on, my countrymen, be FREE, be FREE.
+
+
+SCENE V. _Charles-town._
+
+_The reinforcement landed, and orders given to burn Charles-town, that
+  they may march up more securely under the smoke. GENERAL HOWE rallies
+  his repuls'd and broken troops._
+
+HOWE.
+
+  Curse on the fortune, of _Britannia's_ arms,
+That plays the jilt with us. Shall these few men
+Beat back the flower, and best half of our troops,
+While on our side, so many ships of war,
+And floating batt'ries, from the mystic tide,
+Shake all the hill, and sweep its ridgy top?
+O Gods! no time can blot its memory out.
+We've men enough, upon the field today,
+To bury, this small handful, with the dust
+Our march excites--back to the charge--close ranks,
+And drive these wizards from th' enchanted ground.
+The reinforcement, which bold Clinton heads,
+Gives such superiority of strength,
+That let each man of us but cast a stone,
+We cover this small hill, with these few foes,
+And over head, erect a pyramid,
+The smoke, you see, enwraps us in its shade,
+On, then, my countrymen, and try once more,
+To change the fortune, of the inglorious day.
+
+
+SCENE VI. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+GARDINER [_to the American Army_].
+
+  You see, brave soldiers, how an evil cause,
+A cause of slavery, and civil death,
+Unmans the spirit, and strikes down the soul.
+The gallant _Englishman_, whose fame in arms,
+Through every clime, shakes terribly the globe,
+Is found this day, shorn of his wonted strength,
+Repuls'd, and driven from the flaming hill.
+Warren is fallen, on fair honour's bed,
+Pierc'd in the breast, with ev'ry wound before.
+'Tis ours, now tenfold, to avenge his death,
+And offer up, a reg'ment of the foe,
+Achilles-like, upon the Hero's tomb.
+See, reinforc'd they face us yet again,
+And onward move in phalanx to the war.
+O noble spirits, let this bold attack,
+Be bloody to their host. GOD is our Aid,
+Give then full scope, to just revenge this day.
+
+
+SCENE VII. _The Bay-Shore._
+
+_The British Army once more repuls'd, HOWE again rallies his flying
+  troops._
+
+HOWE.
+
+  But that so many mouths can witness it,
+I would deny myself an _Englishman_,
+And swear this day, that with such cowardice,
+No kindred, or alliance, has my birth.
+O base degen'rate souls, whose ancestors,
+At Cressy, Poitiers, and at Agincourt,
+With tenfold numbers, combated, and pluck'd
+The budding laurels, from the brows of France.
+Back to the charge, once more, and rather die,
+Burn'd up, and wither'd on this bloody hill,
+Than live the blemish of your Country's fame,
+With everlasting infamy, oppress'd.
+Their ammunition, as you hear, is spent,
+So that unless their looks, and visages,
+Like fierce-ey'd Basilisks, can strike you dead;
+Return, and rescue yet, sweet Countrymen,
+Some share of honour, on this hapless day.
+Let some brave officers stand on the rear,
+And with the small sword, and sharp bayonet,
+Drive on each coward that attempts to lag,
+That thus, sure death may find the villain out,
+With more dread certainty, than him who moves,
+Full in the van, to meet the wrathful foe.
+
+
+SCENE VIII. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_GARDINER, desperately wounded and borne from the field by two
+  soldiers._
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  A musket-ball, death-wing'd, hath pierc'd my groin,
+And widely op'd the swift curr'nt of my veins.
+Bear me then, Soldiers, to that hollow space,
+A little hence, just in the hill's decline.
+A surgeon there may stop the gushing wound,
+And gain a short respite to life, that yet
+I may return, and fight one half hour more.
+Then, shall I die in peace, and to my GOD,
+Surrender up, the spirit, which He gave.
+
+
+SCENE IX.
+
+PUTNAM [_to the American Army_].
+
+  Swift-rising fame, on early wing, mounts up,
+To the convexity of bending Heaven,
+And writes each name, who fought with us this day,
+In fairest character, amidst the stars.
+The world shall read it, and still talk of us,
+Who, far out-number'd, twice drove back the foe,
+With carnage horrid, murm'ring to their ships.
+The Ghost of Warren says, enough--I see
+One thousand veterans, mingled with the dust.
+Now, for our sacred honour, and the wound,
+Which Gard'ner feels, once more we charge--once more,
+Dear friends, and fence the obscur'd hill
+With hecatombs of slain. Let every piece
+Flash, like the fierce-consuming fire of Heaven,
+And make the smoke, in which they wrap themselves,
+"A darkness visible."--Now once again,
+Receive the battle, as a shore of rock
+The ocean wave. And if at last we yield,
+Leave many a death, amidst their hollow ranks,
+To damp the measure, of their dear-bought joy.
+
+
+SCENE X _and Last_. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_The American Army overpower'd by numbers are obliged to retreat._
+
+_Enter HOWE, PIGOT, and CLINTON with the British Army._
+
+RICHARDSON [_a young officer, on the parapet_].
+
+  The day is ours, huzza, the day is ours,
+This last attack has forc'd them to retreat.
+
+CLINTON.
+
+  'Tis true, full victory declares for us,
+But we have dearly, dearly purchas'd it.
+Full fifteen hundred of our men lie dead,
+Who, with their officers, do swell the list
+Of this day's carnage--On the well-fought hill,
+Whole ranks cut down, lie struggling with their wounds,
+Or close their bright eyes, in the shades of night.
+No wonder! such incessant musketry,
+And fire of Cannon, from the hill-top pour'd,
+Seem'd not the agency of mortal men,
+But Heaven itself, with snares, and vengeance arm'd,
+T' oppose our gaining it. E'en when was spent
+Their ammunition, and fierce Warren slain,
+Huge stones were hurled from the rocky brow,
+And war renew'd, by these inveterate;
+Till Gard'ner wounded, the left wing gave way,
+And with their shatter'd infantry, the whole,
+Drawn off by Putnam, to the causeway fled,
+When from the ships, and batt'ries on the wave
+They met deep loss, and strew'd the narrow bridge,
+With lifeless carcases. Oh, such a day,
+Since Sodom and Gomorrah sunk in flames,
+Hath not been heard of by the ear of man,
+Nor hath an eye beheld its parallel.
+
+LORD PIGOT.
+
+  The day is ours, but with heart-piercing loss,
+Of soldiers slain, and gallant officers.
+Old Abercrombie, on the field lies dead.
+Pitcairn and Sherwin, in sore battle slain.
+The gallant reg'ment of Welsh fusileers,
+To seventeen privates, is this day reduc'd.
+The grenadiers stand thinly on the hill,
+Like the tall fir-trees on the blasted heath,
+Scorch'd by the autumnal burnings, which have rush'd,
+With wasting fire fierce through its leafy groves.
+Should ev'ry hill by the rebellious foe,
+So well defended, cost thus dear to us,
+Not the united forces of the world,
+Could master them, and the proud rage subdue
+Of these AMERICANS.--
+
+HOWE.
+
+  E'en in an enemy I honour worth,
+And valour eminent. The vanquish'd foe,
+In feats of prowess shew their ancestry,
+And speak their birth legitimate;
+The sons of Britons, with the genuine flame,
+Of British heat, and valour in their veins.
+What pity 'tis, such excellence of mind,
+Should spend itself, in the fantastic cause,
+Of wild-fire liberty.--Warren is dead,
+And lies unburied, on the smoky hill;
+But with rich honours he shall be inhum'd,
+To teach our soldiery, how much we love,
+E'en in a foe, true worth and noble fortitude.
+Come then, brave soldiers, and take up the dead,
+Majors, and Col'nels, which are this day slain,
+And noble Captains of sweet life bereft.
+Fair flowers shall grow upon their grassy tombs,
+And fame in tears shall tell their tragedy,
+To many a widow and soft weeping maid,
+Or parent woe-ful for an only son,
+Through mourning _Britain_, and _Hibernia's_ isle.
+
+_Enter BURGOYNE from Boston._
+
+  Oft have I read, in the historic page,
+And witnessed myself, high scenes in war:
+But this rude day, unparallel'd in time,
+Has no competitor--The gazing eye,
+Of many a soldier, from the chimney-tops,
+And spires of Boston, witnessed when Howe,
+With his full thousands, moving up the hill,
+Receiv'd the onset of the impetuous foe.
+The hill itself, like Ida's burning mount,
+When Jove came down, in terrors, to dismay
+The Grecian host, enshrouded in thick flames;
+And round its margin, to the ebbing wave,
+A town on fire, and rushing from its base,
+With ruin hideous, and combustion down.
+Mean time, deep thunder, from the hollow sides
+Of the artill'ry, on the hilltop hear'd,
+With roar of thunder, and loud mortars play'd,
+From the tall ships, and batt'ries on the wave,
+Bade yon blue ocean, and wide heaven resound.
+A scene like which, perhaps, no time shall know,
+Till Heav'n with final ruin fires the ball,
+Burns up the cities, and the works of men,
+And wraps the mountains in one gen'ral blaze.
+
+                                                            [_Exeunt._
+
+_The End._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+_Written by a Gentleman of the Army._
+
+
+_Supposed to be spoken, immediately after the Battle; by LIEUTENANT
+  COLONEL WEBB, Aide-de-camp to GENERAL PUTNAM._
+
+The field is theirs, but dearly was it bought,
+Thus long defended and severely fought.
+Now pale-fac'd death sits brooding o'er the strand,
+And views the carnage of his ruthless hand.
+But why my heart this deep unbidden sigh,
+Why steals the tear, soft trickling from the eye?
+Is FREEDOM master'd by our late defeat,
+Or HONOUR wounded by a brave retreat?
+'Tis nature dictates; and in pride's despite,
+I mourn my brethren slaughter'd in the fight.
+Th' insulting foe now revels o'er the ground,
+Yet flush'd with victory, they feel the wound.
+Embru'd in gore, they bleed from ev'ry part,
+And deep wounds rankle at _Britannia's_ heart.
+O fatal conquest! Speak thou crimson'd plain,
+Now press'd beneath the weight of hundreds slain!
+There heaps of _British_ youth promiscuous lie,
+Here, murder'd FREEMEN catch the wand'ring eye.
+Observe yon stripling bath'd in purple gore,
+He bleeds for FREEDOM on his native shore.
+His livid eyes in drear convulsions roll,
+While from his wounds escapes the flutt'ring soul,
+Breathless and naked on th' ensanguin'd plain,
+Midst friends and brothers, sons and fathers slain.
+No pitying hand his languid eyes to close,
+He breathes his last amidst insulting foes;
+His body plunder'd, massacred, abus'd;
+By Christians--Christian fun'ral rites refus'd--
+Thrown as a carrion in the public way,
+To Dogs, to Britons, and to Birds a prey.
+Enwrapt in sulph'rous flame and clouds of smoke,
+Brave Gard'ner sinks beneath the deadly stroke,
+And Warren bleeds to grace the bloody strife,
+And for his injur'd country gives his life.
+Yet while his mighty soul ascends the skies,
+On earth his blood for ten-fold vengeance cries.
+Great spirit rest--by Heaven it is decreed,
+Thy murd'ring tyrants by the sword shall bleed.
+E'en racks and gibbets would but consecrate,
+And death repeated be too kind a fate.
+The sword is drawn, in peace no more to rest,
+Till justice bathes it in some tyrant's breast.
+Honour my weapon with the glorious task,
+And let me stab, 'tis all the boon I ask.
+Kind pow'rs, beneath your all-protecting shield,
+I now unsheathe my sword, and take the field
+Sure of success, with this sweet comfort giv'n,
+Who fights for FREEDOM,--fights the cause of HEAV'N.
+
+
+
+
+AN ODE
+
+_on the Battle of BUNKERS-HILL._
+
+
+_Sung and Acted by a Soldier in a Military Habit, with his Firelock,
+&c._
+
+_In the Same Measure with a Sea Piece, Entitled the "Tempest."_
+
+    --Cease, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer--
+
+                  I.
+
+    You bold warriors, who resemble
+      Flames, upon the distant hill,
+    At whose view, the heroes tremble,
+      Fighting with unequal skill.
+    Loud-sounding drums now with hoarse murmurs,
+      Rouse the spirit up to war,
+    Fear not, fear not, tho' their numbers,
+      Much to ours, superior are.
+    Hear brave WARREN bold commanding,
+      "Gallant souls and vet'rans brave,
+    See the enemy just landing,
+      From the navy-cover'd wave.
+    Close the wings--advance the center--
+      Engineers point well your guns--
+    Clap the matches, let the rent air,
+      Bellow to _Britannia's_ sons."
+
+
+                  II.
+
+    Now think you see, three thousand moving,
+      Up the brow of BUNKERS-HILL,
+    Many a gallant vet'ran shoving,
+      Cowards on against their will.
+    The curling volumes all behind them,
+      Dusky clouds of smoke arise,
+    Our cannon-balls, brave boys shall find them,
+      At each shot a hero dies.
+    Once more WARREN midst this terror,
+      "Charge, brave soldiers, charge again,
+    Many an expert vet'ran warrior
+      Of the enemy is slain.
+    Level well your charged pieces,
+      In direction to the town;
+    They shake, they shake, their lightning ceases,
+      That shot brought six standards down."
+
+
+                  III.
+
+    Maids in virgin beauty blooming,
+      On _Britannia's_ sea-girt isle,
+    Say no more your swains are coming,
+      Or with songs the day beguile.
+    For sleeping sound in death's embraces,
+      On their clay-cold beds they lie,
+    Death, grim death, alas defaces,
+      Youth and pleasure which must die.
+    "March the right wing, GARD'NER, yonder,
+      Take th' assailing foe in flank,
+    The hero's spirit lives in thunder,
+      Close there, sergeants, close that rank.
+    The conflict now doth loudly call on
+      Highest proof of martial skill,
+    Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on,
+      The slipp'ry brow of BUNKERS-HILL."
+
+
+                  IV.
+
+    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.
+
+
+
+
+A
+MILITARY SONG
+by the
+ARMY:
+
+_On GENERAL WASHINGTON'S victorious entry into
+the Town of Boston._
+
+
+                  I.
+
+    Sons of valour, taste the glories,
+      Of Celestial LIBERTY,
+    Sing a Triumph o'er the Tories
+      Let the pulse of joy beat high.
+
+
+                  II.
+
+    Heaven this day hath foil'd the many
+      Fallacies of GEORGE their King,
+    Let the echo reach Britan'y,
+      Bid her mountain summits ring.
+
+
+                  III.
+
+    See yon Navy swell the bosom,
+      Of the late enraged sea,
+    Where e'er they go we shall oppose them,
+      Sons of valour must be free.
+
+
+                  IV.
+
+    Should they touch at fair RHODE-ISLAND,
+      There to combat with the brave,
+    Driven, from each hill, and high-land,
+      They shall plough the purple wave.
+
+
+                  V.
+
+    Should they thence, to fair VIRGIN'Y
+      Bend a squadron to DUNMORE,
+    Still with fear and ignominy,
+      They shall quit the hostile shore.
+
+
+                  VI.
+
+    To CAROLINA or to GEORG'Y,
+      Should they next advance their fame,
+    This land of heroes shall disgorge the
+      Sons of tyranny and shame.
+
+
+                  VII.
+
+    Let them rove to climes far distant,
+      Situate under Arctic skies,
+    Call on Hessian troops assistant,
+      And the Savages to rise.
+
+
+                  VIII.
+
+    Boast of wild brigades from Russia,
+      To fix down the galling chain,
+    Canada and Nova Scotia,
+      Shall discharge these hordes again.
+
+
+                  IX.
+
+    In NEW-YORK State rejoin'd by CLINTON,
+      Should their standards mock the air,
+    Many a surgeon shall put lint on
+      Wounds of death received there.
+
+
+                  X.
+
+    War, fierce war, shall break their forces,
+      Nerves of tory men shall fail,
+    Seeing HOWE with alter'd courses,
+      Bending to the western gale.
+
+
+                  XI.
+
+    Thus, from every bay of ocean,
+      Flying back, with sails unfurl'd,
+    Tost with ever-troubl'd motion,
+      They shall quit this smiling world.
+
+
+                  XII.
+
+    Like Satan banished from HEAVEN,
+      Never see the smiling shore,
+    From this land so happy, driven,
+      Never stain its bosom more.
+
+               _The End._
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
+
+General: The variable hyphenation of Charles(-)town, hill(-)top,
+Free(-)men, ten(-)fold, thunder(-)bolts and to(-)day in the original has
+been preserved in this transcription.
+
+On page 241, Ioor has been capitalised in line with other playwrights.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Bunkers-Hill, by 
+Hugh Henry Brackenridge
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+
+Project Gutenberg's The Battle of Bunkers-Hill, by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
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+
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+Title: The Battle of Bunkers-Hill
+
+Author: Hugh Henry Brackenridge
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29225]
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+Language: English
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL ***
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+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="tnote"><p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p>
+<p>This e-book contains the text of <i>The Battle of Bunkers-Hill</i>, extracted from
+<b>Representative Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819</b>. Comments and
+background to all the plays, and links to the other plays are available
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29221/29221-h/29221-h.htm">here</a>.</p>
+<p>For your convenience, the transcribers have provided the following links:</p>
+<p class="center">
+<a href="#HUGH_HENRY_BRACKENRIDGE"><b>HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE</b></a><br />
+<a href="#PROLOGUE"><b>PROLOGUE</b></a><br />
+<a href="#DRAMATIS_PERSONAE"><b>DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_I"><b>ACT I.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_II"><b>ACT II.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_III"><b>ACT III.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_IV"><b>ACT IV.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_V"><b>ACT V.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#EPILOGUE"><b>EPILOGUE</b></a><br />
+<a href="#AN_ODE"><b>AN ODE</b></a><br />
+<a href="#A_SPEECH"><b>A SPEECH</b></a><br />
+<a href="#MILITARY_SONG"><b>A MILITARY SONG</b></a><br />
+</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+<h1>THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL</h1>
+
+<h3><i>By</i></h3>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Hugh Henry Brackenridge</span></h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;">
+<img src="images/image_235.png" width="376" height="390" alt="Hugh Henry Brackenridge" title="Hugh Henry Brackenridge" />
+<span class="caption smcap">Hugh Henry Brackenridge</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="HUGH_HENRY_BRACKENRIDGE" id="HUGH_HENRY_BRACKENRIDGE"></a>HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(1748-1816)</p>
+
+
+<p>The battle of Bunker's Hill was an event which stirred whatever
+dramatic activity there was in America at the time of the
+Revolution. Therefore, a play written on the subject should not
+be omitted from a collection supposed to be representative of
+the different periods in American history and in American
+thought. The reader has an interesting comparison to make in
+Hugh Henry Brackenridge's play, which the title-page declares
+is "A dramatic piece of five acts, in heroic measure, by a gentleman
+of Maryland," and a later piece entitled "Bunker Hill, or
+the Death of General Warren," written by John Daly Burk
+(1776-1808), who came to America because of certain political
+disturbances, and published his drama with a Dedication to
+Aaron Burr (1797), the year it was given in New York for the
+first time.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> It will be found that the former play is conceived
+in a better spirit, and is more significant because of the fact
+that it was written so soon after the actual event.</p>
+
+<p>It is natural that Hugh Henry Brackenridge should have been
+inspired by the Revolution, and should have been prompted by
+the loyal spirit of the patriots of the time. For he was the stuff
+from which patriots are made, having, in his early life, been
+reared in Pennsylvania, even though he first saw the light near
+Campbletown, Scotland, in 1748. His father (who moved to
+America in 1753) was a poor farmer, and Hugh received his
+schooling under precarious conditions, as many boys of that
+time did. We are given pictures of him, trudging thirty miles
+in all kinds of weather, in order to borrow books and newspapers,
+and we are told that, being quick in the learning of languages,
+he made arrangements with a man, who knew mathematics, to
+trade accomplishments in order that he himself might become
+better skilled in the science of calculation.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+<p>At the age of fifteen, he was so well equipped that he was
+engaged to teach school in Maryland, at Gunpowder Falls, some
+of his pupils being so much larger and older than he that, at one
+time, he had to take a brand from the fire, and strike one of them,
+in order to gain ascendency over him.</p>
+
+<p>At eighteen, pocketing whatever money he had saved, he went
+to President Witherspoon, of the College of New Jersey, arranging
+with that divine to teach classes in order that he might afford
+to remain and study. While there, among his classmates may
+be counted James Madison, future president of the United States,
+Philip Freneau, the poet, and others of later note. Aaron Burr
+was a Junior at the time of Brackenridge's graduation, as was
+William Bradford. Though he was on intimate terms with
+Madison, he was much more the friend of Freneau, the two
+writing together "The Rising Glory of America." Should one
+take the complete piece, which was read by Brackenridge at
+Commencement, and mark therein that part of the poem composed
+by Freneau, and included later in Freneau's published
+works, one might very readily understand that Brackenridge
+was less the poet, even though in some ways he may have been
+more versatile as a writer.</p>
+
+<p>This piece, "The Rising Glory of America,"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> is representative
+of a type of drama which was fostered and encouraged by the
+colleges of the time. We find Francis Hopkinson, in the College
+of Philadelphia, writing various dialogues, like his "Exercise:
+Containing a Dialogue [by the Rev. Dr. Smith] and Ode, sacred
+to the memory of his late gracious Majesty George II. Performed
+at the public commencement in the College of Philadelphia,
+May, 1761." Yet Hopkinson was one of the Signers
+of the Declaration of Independence!</p>
+
+<p>What says Abb&eacute; Robin, viewing Harvard in 1781:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Their pupils often act tragedies, the subject of which is generally
+taken from their national events, such as the battle of Bunker's Hill,
+the burning of Charlestown, the death of General Montgomery, the
+capture of Burgoyne, the treason of Arnold, and the Fall of British
+Tyranny. You will easily conclude that in such a new nation as
+this, these pieces must fall infinitely short of that perfection to
+which our European literary productions of this kind are wrought
+up; but, still, they have a greater effect upon the mind than the
+best of ours would have among them, because those manners and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
+customs are delineated, which are peculiar to themselves, and the
+events are such as interest them above all others. The drama is
+here reduced to its true and Ancient origin.</p></div>
+
+<p>Nathaniel Evans also wrote dialogues, performed at the public
+Commencements in Philadelphia, like the one on May 17, 1763.
+We have already noted that "The Prince of Parthia" was written
+as a college play. "The Military Glory of Great Britain" was
+also prepared as an entertainment by the graduates of the College
+of New Jersey, held in Nassau-Hall, September 29, 1762, with
+the authorship unknown. It was a type of play which tempted
+many men, who later tried their hand at more important dramatic
+work.</p>
+
+<p>Another interesting title of the time ran as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>An/Exercise,/containing/a Dialogue and Ode/On the Accession of
+His present gracious Majesty,/George III./Performed at the public
+Commencement in the College of/Philadelphia, May 18th, 1762./Philadelphia:/Printed
+by W. Dunlap, in Market-Street, M,DCC,LXII./</p></div>
+
+<p>In order to understand the spirit which prompted both Brackenridge
+and Freneau, one needs must turn to an account of the
+latter's life, and learn therefrom certain facts concerning the
+early college spirit of Brackenridge, which was ignored by his
+son in the only authentic record of his life we have.</p>
+
+<p>From Freneau we understand, for example, that, as early as
+June 24, 1769, a certain number of students banded themselves
+into an undergraduate fraternity, called the American Whig
+Society, the chief members of that association being Madison,
+Brackenridge, Bradford, and Freneau himself. There is a manuscript
+book in the possession of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania,
+originally owned by Bradford, and containing some of
+their later poetical tirades. It is called "Satires against the
+Whigs," and is composed of ten pastorals by Brackenridge and
+a number of satires by Freneau. It is strange that the intimacy
+between Brackenridge and Freneau did not lead to their rooming
+together while at College, Brackenridge giving way to James
+Madison. But we do know that the two were very intimately
+associated in early literary work, and, in the manuscript book
+just mentioned, there is contained the fragment of a novel
+written alternately by the two, and called "Father Bombo's
+Pilgrimage to Mecca in Arabia."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then followed "The Rising Glory of America," which, when
+Brackenridge graduated, September 25, 1771, was announced on
+the program of events&mdash;afternoon division&mdash;as being entirely
+by himself. This must have been an oversight, inasmuch as
+Freneau had more than a mere hand in the execution of the
+piece, and inasmuch as we possess Brackenridge's own confession
+"that on his part it was a task of labour, while the verse of his
+associate flowed spontaneously."</p>
+
+<p>The college life of the time was not devoted entirely to literary
+creativeness or to political discussions. There is published an
+address by President Witherspoon to the inhabitants of Jamaica
+(1772), in which he outlined the course of study to which the
+students were subjected. It indicates, very excellently, the
+classical training that Brackenridge, Freneau, and Madison had
+to undergo. In fact, we find, on Commencement Day, Freneau
+debating on "Does Ancient Poetry excel the Modern?" and
+throwing all his energy in favour of the affirmative argument.
+And Brackenridge, selected to deliver the Salutatory, rendered
+it in Latin, "De societate hominum." (See Pennsylvania
+<i>Chronicle</i>; John Maclean's "History of the College of New
+Jersey," i, 312; Madison's correspondence while a student;
+also Philip Vickers Fithian's Journal and Letters: 1764-1774.
+Student at Princeton College: 1770-1772. Tutor at Nomini
+Hall in Virginia: 1773-1774. Ed. ... by J. R. Williams. Princeton,
+1900.) The Princeton historian points to this class of 1771
+as being so patriotic that a unanimous vote was taken to appear
+at graduation in nothing but things of American manufacture.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p>
+
+<p>This much we do know regarding the early life of Brackenridge:
+that he was always pressed for money, that it was his indefatigableness
+and thirst for knowledge which carried him through the
+schools of the time, and through college.</p>
+
+<p>His son even confesses that his father was obliged, on one
+occasion, to write an address which one of the students had to
+deliver, and to receive in payment therefor a new suit of clothes!</p>
+
+<p>It was after his graduation that Brackenridge tutored in the
+College for a while, meantime taking up a course in theology.
+After this, he accepted a position as teacher in a school on the
+eastern shore of Maryland, because the "Academy" offered him
+a most flattering salary, and he could not reject it, however much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
+he may have been interested in his college work. No sooner was
+he established there than he wrote to his friend, Freneau, inviting
+him to take the second position in the Maryland Seminary.
+This position was accepted by Freneau, who wrote to James
+Madison on November 22, 1772, mentioning therein that
+Brackenridge was at the head of Sommerset Academy, to which
+he himself had come on October 18th of that year, and where
+he was teaching the young idea and pursuing at the same time
+his theological studies.</p>
+
+<p>As illustration of how much Freneau was at heart in tune with
+the work, we note that he says, "We have about thirty students
+in this Academy who prey upon me like leeches."</p>
+
+<p>According to Brackenridge's son, whose Memoir of his father
+is published in the 1846 edition of "Modern Chivalry," there
+must, however, have been in this part of Maryland a polished
+social atmosphere, which gave ample opportunity for the wit,
+the scholarship, and the conversational and social powers of
+Brackenridge to develop.</p>
+
+<p>For the students of Sommerset Academy, Brackenridge wrote
+his play, "The Battle of Bunkers-Hill,"<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> and though there is no
+record of this piece having been actually presented, it is generally
+agreed that the Principal wrote his drama as an exercise for the
+pupils to perform. It was published anonymously, the fashion
+of the day which has led to many disputes,&mdash;for example, as to
+the authorship claims of John Leacock and Mrs. Mercy Warren.
+Royall Tyler was likewise diffident about letting his name appear
+on the title-page of "The Contrast."</p>
+
+<p>When published in 1776, Brackenridge's piece was dedicated
+to Richard Stockton, and its tone and temper are thoroughly
+indicative of the spirit that must have dominated all his writings
+while at College.</p>
+
+<p>The year 1776 marks Brackenridge's severance from teaching
+work. He soon after went to Philadelphia with his small fortune
+of one thousand pounds, and continued his efforts to make a
+livelihood by editing the <i>United States Magazine</i>, which afforded
+him an opportunity of airing his patriotic views, and gave him
+the added pleasure of inviting his associate, Freneau, to become
+one of the leading contributors. The following year, even though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
+he had never been ordained in the Church, Brackenridge, nevertheless,
+a licensed divine, enlisted as Chaplain in the Revolutionary
+Army, and there are extant a number of vigorous political
+sermons which it was his wont to deliver to the soldiers&mdash;the
+same fiery eloquence seen in his "Eulogium on the Brave Men
+who fell in the Contest with Great Britain," delivered in 1778.</p>
+
+<p>Some time elapsed while he travelled hither and thither with
+a bible in his saddle-bags, according to description, and then
+Brackenridge took up the study of law, inasmuch as his very
+advanced views on religious questions would not allow him to
+subscribe to all the tenets of his Presbyterian faith. This drew
+down upon him the inimical strictures of the pulpit, but
+marked him as a man of intellectual bravery and certain moral
+daring.</p>
+
+<p>Having completed his law reading in Annapolis, under Samuel
+Chase, afterwards Supreme Court Judge, he crossed the Alleghanies,
+in 1781, and established himself in Pittsburgh, where
+he rapidly grew in reputation, through his personal magnetism
+and his undoubted talents as a lawyer. He was strictly in
+favour of the Federal Constitution, and those who wish to fathom
+his full political importance should not only study his record as
+Judge of the Supreme Court of the State of Pennsylvania, when
+he was appointed by Governor McKean, but, more significant
+still, the part he took in the Whiskey Insurrection, which brought
+him in touch with Albert Gallatin. In accord with the temper
+of the times, he was a man of party politics, although he never
+allowed his prejudices to interfere with his duties on the bench.
+As a Judge, his term of office ran from 1800 to the day of his
+death, June 25, 1816.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brackenridge, besides being the author of the dialogue
+and play mentioned, likewise wrote several other dramas, among
+them being a tragedy, "The Death of General Montgomery at
+the Siege of Quebec" (1777), and a number of Odes and Elegies.
+The historical student will find much material relating to Brackenridge's
+political manoeuvres, in his book on the Western
+Insurrection; but probably as an author he is more justly famous
+for his series of stories and sketches published under the title,
+"Modern Chivalry" (1792), and representing a certain type of
+prose writing distinctive of American letters of the time of Clay
+and Crawford. These impressions were later added to. It is a
+type to be compared with the literary work done in the Southern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
+States by J. J. Hooper, Judge Longstreet, and Judge Baldwin
+in ante-bellum days.</p>
+
+<p>Among Brackenridge's other works may be mentioned:</p>
+
+<p>An account of Pittsburgh in 1786. (Pittsburgh <i>Gazette</i>, July
+29, 1786. Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh: <i>Monthly Bulletin</i>,
+1902, v., 257-262, 288-290, 332-335.)</p>
+
+<p>The Adventures of Captain Farrago. Philadelphia, 1856.</p>
+
+<p>The Adventures of Major O'Regan. Philadelphia, 1856.</p>
+
+<p>Gazette Publications. Carlisle, 1806.</p>
+
+<p>Incidents of the Insurrection in the western parts of Pennsylvania.
+Philadelphia, 1795.</p>
+
+<p>Law Miscellanies. Philadelphia, 1814.</p>
+
+<p>Narrative of the late Expedition against the Indians. 1798.</p>
+
+<p>An Occasional Paper by Democritus, entitled "The Standard
+of Liberty." 1802.</p>
+
+<p>Political Miscellany. 1793.</p>
+
+<p>There are many plays extant dealing specifically with events
+connected with the Revolution and the War of 1812. For a discussion
+of same, see an article by A. E. Lancaster, "Historical
+American Plays," <i>Chautauquan</i>, 31:359-364, 1900; also see the
+present editor's "The American Dramatist," Chapter III. Note
+the following plays particularly:</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">C. E. Grice.</span> "The Battle of New Orleans; or, Glory, Love
+and Loyalty." An Historical and National Drama. 1816.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">W. Ioor.</span> "The Battle of the Eutaw Springs, and Evacuation of
+Charleston; or, the Glorious 14th of December, 1782." A
+National Drama. Played in Charleston, 1817.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">S. B. H. Judah.</span> "A Tale of Lexington." A National Comedy,
+founded on the opening of the Revolution. 1823.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Burk wrote another play, "Female Patriotism; or, The Death of Joan d'Arc,"
+given a New York production in 1798. An interesting letter from Burk to J. Hodgkinson,
+who produced his "Bunker Hill," is to be found in Dunlap's "The American
+Theatre" (London, 1833, i, 313). The play has been reissued by the Dunlap Society
+(1891, no. 15), and edited, with an introduction by Brander Matthews.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Philadelphia:/Printed by Joseph Crukshank, for R. Aitken,/Bookseller, Opposite
+the London-Coffee-/House, in Front-Street./M,DCC,LXXII./</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The students of Princeton have not revived the "Battle of Bunkers-Hill,"
+but they point still with some pride to the ivy which was planted by the class of 1771.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The/Battle/of/Bunkers-Hill./A Dramatic Piece,/of Five Acts,/in Heroic Measure.
+/By a Gentleman of Maryland./&mdash;Pulcrumque mori succurrit in armis./Virgil./&mdash;'Tis
+glorious to die in Battle.&mdash;/Philadelphia:/Printed and Sold by Robert Bell, in
+Third-Street./MDCCLXXVI./</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter gap3" style="width: 428px;">
+<img src="images/image_243.png" width="428" height="686" alt="THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL. A DRAMATIC PIECE, OF FIVE ACTS, IN HEROIC MEASURE. Fac-Simile Title-Page of the First Edition" title="Fac-Simile Title-Page of the First Edition" />
+<span class="caption smcap">Fac-Simile Title-Page of the First Edition</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="center gap3">TO</p>
+<p class="center">RICHARD STOCKTON, <i>Esquire</i>;</p>
+<p class="center">MEMBER</p>
+<p class="center">OF THE HONOURABLE,</p>
+<p class="center">THE</p>
+<p class="center">CONTINENTAL CONGRESS,</p>
+<p class="center">for the State</p>
+<p class="center">of</p>
+<p class="center">NEW-JERSEY.</p>
+
+<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,</p>
+
+<p>I take the Freedom to Inscribe with <span class="smaller">YOUR</span> Name, the following
+short Performance in Honour of some brave <span class="smcap">Men</span>, who have
+fallen in the Cause of <span class="smcap">Liberty</span>.</p>
+
+<p>It was at first drawn up for an Exercise in Oratory, to a
+number of young Gentlemen in a southern Academy, but being
+now Published, may serve the same Purpose, in other <span class="smcap">American</span>
+Seminaries.</p>
+
+<p>The many Civilities, received from <span class="smaller">YOUR</span> Family, at an earlier
+Period of my Life, while a Student at <span class="smcap">New-Jersey</span> College, demand
+the warmest Gratitude; and I do continually, with the
+most sincere Pleasure, recollect and acknowledge them.</p>
+
+<p>It is my fervent wish, that the Ruler of the Universe may
+Crown with Success, the Cause of <span class="smcap">Freedom</span>, and speedily relieve
+our bleeding Country in whose Service <span class="smaller">YOU</span> have distinguishedly
+exerted <span class="smaller">YOUR</span> eminent Abilities, by assisting <span class="smaller">HER</span> Deliberations
+in the grand Council of the Empire.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,</p>
+<p style="margin-left:15%;">I am,</p>
+<p style="margin-left:30%;">With great Respect,</p>
+<p style="margin-left:45%;">Your much obliged,</p>
+<p style="margin-left:60%;">and most humble Servant,</p>
+<p style="margin-left:75%;"><span class="smcap">The Author.</span></p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE</h2>
+
+<h3>to the</h3>
+
+<h2>BATTLE</h2>
+
+<h3>of</h3>
+
+<h2>BUNKERS-HILL</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By a Lieutenant Colonel in the <span class="smcap">Continental Army</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This mighty Era big with dread alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aloud calls each <span class="smcap">American</span> to arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let ev'ry Breast with martial ardour glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dread to meet the proud usurping foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What tho' our bodies feel an earthly chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still the free soul, unblemish'd and serene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enjoys a mental <span class="smcap">Liberty</span>,&mdash;a charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the power of fate itself to harm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should vict'ry crown us in the doubtful strife&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eternal honours mark the hero's life.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should Wounds and slaughter be our hapless doom&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unfading laurels deck the Martyr's Tomb:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sure reward awaits his soul on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On earth his memory shall never die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For when we read the fatal story o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One tear shall drop for him who is&mdash;no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who nobly struggled to support our laws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bravely fell in freedom's sacred cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let virtue fire us to the martial deed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We fight to conquer and we dare to bleed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witness ye fathers! whose protracted time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fruitful of story, chronicles the clime.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These howling deserts, hospitably tame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Erst snatch'd you martyrs, from the hungry flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas Heav'n's own cause, beneath whose shelt'ring power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye grew the wonder of this present hour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<table summary="big brace" style="padding:0em;border-collapse:collapse;margin:0em;">
+<tr>
+<td><span class="i0">The task&mdash;be ours with unremitted toil,</span></td>
+<td rowspan="3" style="font-size:300%;">}</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="i0">To guard the rights of this dear-purchas'd soil,</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="i0">From Royal plund'rers, greedy of our spoil,</span></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<span class="i0">Who come resolv'd to murder and enslave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shackle <span class="smcap">Freemen</span> and to rob the brave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The loud mouth'd cannon threaten from afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be this our comfort in the storm of war&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fights, to take our liberty away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dead-hearted fights, and falls an easy prey.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, on my brethren to the embattl'd plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who shrinks with fear, anticipates a chain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 30%;" />
+<h2><a name="DRAMATIS_PERSONAE" id="DRAMATIS_PERSONAE"></a>DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;</h2>
+
+
+<table summary="Dramatis Personae">
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Warren</span></td>
+<td style="font-size:300%;" rowspan="3">}</td>
+<td rowspan="3"><i>American Officers.</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Putnam</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Gardiner</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" style="height:2em;">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Gage</span></td>
+<td style="font-size:600%;" rowspan="5">}</td>
+<td rowspan="5"><i>British Officers.</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Howe</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Burgoyne</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Clinton</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Lord Pigot</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" style="height:2em;">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Sherwin</span>, <i>Aide-de-camp to General Howe.</i></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center">Soldiers, &amp;c.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3">THE</h2>
+
+<h2>BATTLE</h2>
+
+<h2>OF</h2>
+
+<h2>BUNKERS-HILL</h2>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> I. <i>Camp at Cambridge.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Warren</span>, <span class="smcap">Putnam</span>, and <span class="smcap">Gardiner</span>.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warren.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Why thus, brave Putnam, shall we still encamp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inactive here; and with this gentle flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Cambridge murmuring, mix briny tears?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Salt tears of grief by many a parent shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sons detain'd, and tender innocents<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yon fair City, famishing for bread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For not fond mothers or their weeping babes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can move the hard heart of relentless Gage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perfidious man! Who pledg'd his oath so late,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And word of honour to those patriots<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet in his power, that yielding him their arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They should receive permission to depart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And join once more their valiant countrymen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now detains as hostages these men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In low damp dungeons, and in gaols chain'd down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While grief and famine on their vitals prey.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, noble Putnam, shall we hear of this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let our idle swords rust in the sheath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While slaves of Royal Power impeach our worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As vain, and call our patience cowardice?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Putnam.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Not less, bold Warren, have I felt the pangs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of woe severe in this calamity:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And could I with my life redeem the times,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The richest blood that circles round my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should hastily be shed. But what avails<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The genuine flame and vigour of the soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When nature's self, and all the strength of art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Opposes every effort in our power?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These sons of slavery dare not advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And meet in equal fight our hostile arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For yet they well remember <span class="smcap">Lexington</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what they suffer'd on that rueful day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When wantoning in savage rage, they march'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Onward to <span class="smcap">Concord</span>, in a firm array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mock music playing, and the ample flag<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tyranny display'd; but with dire loss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And infamy drove back, they gain'd the town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And under cover of their ships of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retir'd, confounded and dismay'd. No more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In mirthful mood to combat us, or mix<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their jocund music with the sounds of war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tempt no more unequal fight with men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who to oppose dire arbitrary sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have grasp'd the sword: and resolute to brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death in a thousand dreary shapes, can know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the warm breast, no sentiment of fear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gardiner.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The free born spirit of immortal fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is stranger to ignoble deeds, and shuns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The name of cowardice. But well thy mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sage, and matur'd by long experience, weighs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The perilous attempt, to storm the town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rescue thence, the suff'ring citizens.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For but one pass to that peninsula,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which the city stands, on all sides barr'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here what numbers can supply the rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the all devouring, deep mouth'd cannon, plac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On many a strong redoubt: while on each side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ships of war, moor'd, in the winding bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can sweep ten thousand from the level beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And render all access impregnable."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warren.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">True, valiant Gard'ner, the attempt is vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To force that entrance to the sea-girt town;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which while we hop'd for peace, and in that view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kept back our swords, we saw them fortify.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what if haply, with a chosen few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led through the midnight shades, yon heights were gain'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that contiguous hill, whose grassy foot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Mystic's gentle tide is wash'd. Here rais'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strong batt'ries jutting o'er the level sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With everlasting thunder, shall annoy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their navy far beneath; and in some lucky hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When dubious darkness on the land is spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A chosen band may pierce their sep'rate fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in swift boats, across the narrow tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pour like a flame, on their unguarded ranks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wither them: As when an angel smote<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Assyrian camp. The proud Sennacherib,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With impious rage, against the hill of God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blasphem'd. Low humbl'd, when the dawning light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw all his host dead men: So yet I trust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The God of battles will avouch our cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And those proud champions of despotic power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who turn our fasting to their mirth, and mock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our prayers, naming us the <span class="smcap">Saints</span>, shall yet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repay with blood, the tears and agonies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tender mothers, and their infant babes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shut up in <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Putnam.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Heaven, smile on us then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And favour this attempt. Now from our troops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seven hundred gallant men, and skill'd in arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With speed select, choice spirits of the war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By you led on, brave Gard'ner, to the heights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere yet the morn with dawning light breaks forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intrench on <span class="smcap">Bunkers-Hill</span>; and when the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First o'er the hill top rises, we shall join<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">United arms, against the assailing foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should they attempt to cross the narrow tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In deep battalion to regain the hill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gardiner.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The thought is perilous, and many men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this bold enterprise, must strew the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But since we combat in the cause of God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I draw my sword, nor shall the sheath again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receive the shining blade, till on the heights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of <span class="smcap">Charles-town</span>, and <span class="smcap">Bunker's</span> pleasant <span class="smcap">Hill</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It drinks the blood of many a warrior slain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"></a>ACT II.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> I. <i>Boston.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Gage</span>, <span class="smcap">Howe</span>, and <span class="smcap">Burgoyne</span>.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Burgoyne.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">How long, brave gen'rals, shall the rebel foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain arrangements, and mock siege, display<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their haughty insolence?&mdash;Shall in this town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So many thousands, of <i>Britannia's</i> troops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With watch incessant, and sore toil oppress'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remain besieg'd? A vet'ran army pent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the inclosure, of so small a space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By a disorder'd herd, untaught, unofficer'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let not sweet Heav'n, the envious mouth of fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With breath malignant, o'er the Atlantic wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bear this to Europe's shores, or tell to France,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or haughty Spain, of <span class="smcap">Lexington's</span> retreat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who could have thought it, in the womb of time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That <i>British</i> soldiers, in this latter age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beat back by peasants, and in flight disgrac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could tamely brook the base discomfiture;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor sallying out, with spirit reassum'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exact due tribute of their victory?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drive back the foe, to Alleghany hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In woody valleys, or on mountain tops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mix with wolves and kindred savages.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gage.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">This mighty paradox, will soon dissolve.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear first, Burgoyne, the valour of these men,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fir'd with the zeal, of fiercest liberty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No fear of death, so terrible to all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can stop their rage. Grey-headed clergymen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With holy bible, and continual prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bear up their fortitude&mdash;and talk of heav'n,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell them, that sweet soul, who dies in battle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall walk, with spirits of the just. These words<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Add wings to native rage, and hurry them<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Impetuous to war. Nor yet in arms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unpractised. The day of <span class="smcap">Lexington</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sad conviction gave our soldiery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That these <span class="smcap">Americans</span>, were not that herd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rout ungovern'd, which we painted them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Howe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Not strange to your maturer thought, Burgoyne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This matter will appear. A people brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who never yet, of luxury, or soft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delights, effeminate, and false, have tasted.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, through hate of chains, and slav'ry, suppos'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forsake their mountain tops, and rush to arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft have I heard their valour published:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their perseverance, and untamable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce mind, when late they fought with us, and drove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The French encroaching on their settlements,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to their frozen lakes. Or when with us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Cape Breton, they stormed Louisburg.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With us in Canada, they took Quebec;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the Havannah, these <span class="smcap">New-England Men</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led on by Putnam, acted gallantly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I had a brother once, who in that war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With fame commanded them, and when he fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not unlamented; for these warriors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So brave themselves, and sensible of merit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Erected him a costly monument;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And much it grieves me that I draw my sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this late insurrection and revolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To chastise them. Would to Almighty God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The task unnatural, had been assign'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Elsewhere. But since by Heaven, determined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let's on, and wipe the day of <span class="smcap">Lexington</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus soil'd, quite from our soldiers' memories.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This reinforcement, which with us have fail'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In many a transport, from <i>Britannia's</i> shores,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will give new vigour to the Royal Arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crush rebellion, in its infancy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let's on, and from this siege, calamitous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Assert our liberty; nay, rather die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Transfix'd in battle, by their bayonets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than thus remain, the scoff and ridicule<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of gibing wits, and paltry gazetteers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On this, their madding continent, who cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is the <i>British</i> valour: that renown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which spoke in thunder, to the Gallic shores?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That spirit is evaporate, that fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which erst distinguish'd them, that flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gen'rous energy of soul, which fill'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Henrys, Edwards, thunder-bolts of war;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Hampdens, Marlboroughs, and the immortal Wolfe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the Abraham heights, victorious.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Britannia's</i> genius, is unfortunate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flags, say they, when Royal tyranny<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Directs her arms. This let us then disprove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In combat speedily, and take from them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wantonness of this fell pride, and boasting.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gage.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Tho' much I dread the issue of the attempt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So full of hazard, and advent'rous spirit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet since your judgment, and high skill in arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From full experience, boldly prompts you on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I give my voice, and when one day hath pass'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In whose swift hours, may be wrought, highly up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The resolution, of the soldiery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With soothing words, and ample promises,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of rich rewards, in lands and settlements,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the confiscate property throughout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These rebel colonies, at length subdu'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then march we forth, beat up their drowsy camp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with the sun, to this safe capital,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Return, rich, with the triumphs of the war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be our plan, that which brave Haldiman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere yet recall'd, advis'd to us. Let first,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Howe, and Clinton, on that western point,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Land with the transports, and mean time Burgoyne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the artillery, pour sharp cannonade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the neck, and sweep, the beachy plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which lies to Roxborough, where yon western stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowing from Cambridge, mixes with the Bay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, these <span class="smcap">Americans</span>, shall learn to dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The force of discipline, and skill in arms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT III.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> I. <i>Bunkers-Hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Gardiner</span>, with seven hundred men.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gardiner.</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">This is the hill, brave countrymen, whose brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We mean to fortify. A strong redoubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With saliant angles, and embrasures deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be speedily thrown up. Let each himself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not undeserving, of our choice approve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For out of thousands, I have challeng'd you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To this bold enterprise, as men of might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And valour eminent, and such this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I trust, will honour you. Let each his spade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pick-axe, vig'rously, in this hard soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where I have laid, the curved line, exert.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For now the morning star, bright Lucifer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peers on the firmament, and soon the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flush'd with the golden sun, shall visit us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then gallant countrymen, should faithless Gage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pour forth his lean, and half-starv'd myrmidons;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll make them taste our cartridges, and know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What rugged steel, our bayonets are made of;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if o'er charg'd, with numbers, bravely fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like those three hundred at Thermopyl&aelig;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And give our Country, credit in our deaths.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> I. <i>Boston.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gage</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Oh, sweet tranquillity, and peace of soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in the bosom of the cottager,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tak'st up thy residence&mdash;cannot the beams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of royal sunshine, call thee to my breast?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair honour, waits on thee, renown abroad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And high dominion, o'er this Continent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon as the spirit, of rebellious war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is scourg'd into obedience. Why then, ye Gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This inward gnawing, and remorse of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For perfidy, and breach of promises!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should the spouse, or weeping infant babe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or meek ey'd virgin, with her sallow cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rose by famine, wither'd out of it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or why the father, or his youthful son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By me detain'd, from all their relatives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, in low dungeons, and, in Gaols chain'd down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Affect my spirit, when the mighty cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of <i>George</i> and <i>Britain</i>, is endangered?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For nobly struggling, in the cause of kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We claim the high, the just prerogative,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rule mankind, and with an iron rod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exact submission, due, tho' absolute.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What tho' they style me, villain, murderer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And imprecate from Heaven, dire thunderbolts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To crush my purposes&mdash;Was that a gun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which thunders o'er the wave?&mdash;Or is it guilt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That plays the coward, with my trembling heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cools the blood, with frightful images.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O guilt, thy blackness, hovers on the mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor can the morning dissipate thy shades.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon ruddy morn, which over <span class="smcap">Bunkers-Hill</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Advancing slowly, blushes to the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tips with gold the spires of <span class="smcap">Charles-town</span>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Burgoyne</span>.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The rebel foe, grown yet more insolent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By that small loss, or rout, at <span class="smcap">Lexington</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prevent our purpose and the night by-past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have push'd intrenchments, and some flimsy works,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With rude achievement, on the rocky brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that tall hill. A ship-boy, with the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the tall mast-head, of the Admiral,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Descry'd their aim, and gave the swift alarm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our glasses mark, but one small regiment there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, ev'ry hour we languish in delay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inspires fresh hope, and fills their pig'my souls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thoughts of holding it. You hear the sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of spades and pick-axes, upon the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Incessant, pounding, like old Vulcan's forge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urg'd by the Cyclops.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Howe</span>.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">To your alarm posts, officers; come, gallant souls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let's out, and drive them from that eminence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which the foe, doth earth himself.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I relish not, such haughty neighbourhood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give orders, swiftly, to the Admiral,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That some stout ship heave up the narrow bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pour indignant, from the full-tide wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce cannonade, across the isthmus point,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That no assistance may be brought to them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If but seven hundred, we can treat with them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, strew the hill, with death, and carcasses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And offer up, this band, a hecatomb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">To <i>Britain's</i> glory, and the cause of kings.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Burgoyne</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Howe</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gage</span> [<i>solus</i>].<br /></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">May Heaven protect us, from their rage, I say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When but a boy, I dream'd of death in bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever since that time, I hated things<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which put him, like a pair of spectacles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before my eyes. The thought lies deep in fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor can a mortal see the bottom of it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis here&mdash;'Tis there&mdash;I could philosophize&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eternity, is like a winding sheet&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The seven commandments like&mdash;I think there's seven&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I scratch my head&mdash;but yet in vain I scratch&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh Bute, and Dartmouth, knew ye what I feel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You sure would pity an old drinking man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">That has more heart-ake, than philosophy.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> II. <i><span class="smcap">Howe</span> with the British Army.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Howe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The day at length, propitious shews itself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with full beams of majesty, the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath bless'd its fair nativity; when Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave soldiers, and the cause of kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calls on the spirit of your loyalty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To chastise this rebellion, and tread down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such foul ingratitude&mdash;such monstrous shape,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horrid liberty, which spurns that love&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fond maternal tenderness of soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which on this dreary coast, first planted them:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Restrain'd the rage, of murdering savages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, with fierce inroad, on their settlements,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made frequent war&mdash;struck down the arm of France,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just rais'd, to crush them, in their infancy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And since that time, have bade their cities grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To marts of trade: call'd fair-ey'd commerce forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To share dominion, on the distant wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And visit every clime, and foreign shore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet this, brave soldiers, is the proud return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the best blood of <i>England</i>, shed for them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold yon hill, where fell rebellion rears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her snake-stream'd ensign, and would seem to brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With scarce seven hundred, this sea-bounded Camp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where may be counted, full ten thousand men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in the war with France so late, acquir'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loud fame, and shook the other continent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come on, brave soldiers, seize your gleaming arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let this day, in after times be held,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Minden famous, and each hostile field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where <i>British</i> valour shone victorious.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The time moves slow, which enviously detains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our just resentment from these traitors' heads.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their richest farms, and cultur'd settlements,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By winding river, or extensive bay,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be your first reward. Our noble king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As things confiscate, holds their property,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in rich measure, will bestow on you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who face the frowns, and labour of this day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He that outlives this battle, shall ascend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In titled honour, to the height of state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dukedoms, and baronies, midst these our foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In tributary vassalage, kept down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be your fair inheritance. Come on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beat up th' heroic sound of war. The word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is, <i>George</i> our sov'reign, and <i>Britannia's</i> arms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_V" id="ACT_V"></a>ACT V.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> I. <i>Bunkers-Hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Warren</span> with the American Army.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warren.</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">To arms, brave countrymen, for see the foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comes forth to battle, and would seem to try,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more, their fortune in decisive war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three thousand, 'gainst seven hundred, rang'd this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall give the world, an ample specimen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What strength, and noble confidence, the sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Liberty inspires. That Liberty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, not the thunder of Bellona's voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With fleets, and armies, from the <i>British</i> Shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall wrest from us. Our noble ancestors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out-brav'd the tempests, of the hoary deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on these hills, uncultivate, and wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought an asylum, from despotic sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A short asylum, for that envious power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With persecution dire, still follows us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At first, they deem'd our charters forfeited,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next, our just rights, in government, abridg'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, thrust in viceroys, and bashaws, to rule,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lawless sovereignty. Now added force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of standing armies, to secure their sway.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much have we suffer'd from the licens'd rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of brutal soldiery, in each fair town.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remember March, brave countrymen, that day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When <span class="smcap">Boston's</span> streets ran blood. Think on that day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the memory, to revenge, stir up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The temper of your souls. There might we still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On terms precarious, and disdainful liv'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With daughters ravished, and butcher'd sons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Heaven forbade the thought. These are the men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who in firm phalanx, threaten us with war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And aim this day, to fix forever down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The galling chains, which tyranny has forg'd for us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These count our lands and settlements their own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in their intercepted letters, speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of farms, and tenements, secured for friends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, if they gain, brave soldiers, let with blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The purchase, be seal'd down. Let every arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This day be active, in fair freedom's cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shower down, from the hill, like Heav'n in wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full store of lightning, and fierce iron hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To blast the adversary. Let this ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like burning &AElig;tna or Vesuvius top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be wrapt in flame&mdash;The word is, <span class="smcap">Liberty</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Heaven smile on us, in so just a cause.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> II. <i>Bunkers-Hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gardiner</span> [<i>leading up his men to the engagement</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Fear not, brave soldiers, tho' their infantry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In deep array, so far out-numbers us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The justness of our cause, will brace each arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And steel the soul, with fortitude; while they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose guilt hangs trembling, on their consciences,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must fail in battle, and receive that death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, in high vengeance, we prepare for them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let then each spirit, to the height, would up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shew noble vigour, and full force this day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For on the merit, of our swords, is plac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The virgin honour, and true character,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this whole Continent: and one short hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May give complexion, to the whole event,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fixing the judgment whether as base slaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We serve these masters, or more nobly live,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free as the breeze, that on the hill-top, plays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With these sweet fields, and tenements, our own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O fellow soldiers, let this battle speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dire disappointment, to the insulting foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who claim our fair possessions, and set down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These cultur'd-farms, and bowry-hills, and plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the rich prize, of certain victory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we, the sons of <span class="smcap">Massachusetts-Bay</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">New Hampshire</span>, and <span class="smcap">Connecticut</span>; shall we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fall back, dishonour'd, from our native plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mix with the savages, and roam for food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On western mountains, or the desert shores,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Canada's cold lakes? or state more vile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sit down, in humble vassalage, content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To till the ground for these proud conquerors?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, fellow soldiers, let us rise this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Emancipate, from such ignoble choice.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And should the battle ravish our sweet lives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Late time shall give, an ample monument,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bid her worthies, emulate our fame.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> III. <i>Boston.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The British Army being repuls'd, <span class="smcap">Sherwin</span> is dispatch'd to
+<span class="smcap">General Gage</span>, for assistance.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Sherwin</span>, <span class="smcap">Gage</span>, <span class="smcap">Burgoyne</span>, and <span class="smcap">Clinton</span>.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sherwin.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Our men advancing, have receiv'd dire loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this encounter, and the case demands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In swift crisis, of extremity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand men to reinforce the war.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gage.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Do as you please, Burgoyne, in this affair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I'll hide myself in some deep vault beneath.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Burgoyne.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">'Tis yours, brave Clinton, to command, these men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embark them speedily. I see our troops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand on the margin of the ebbing flood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The flood affrighted, at the scene it views),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fear, once more, to climb the desp'rate hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Whence the bold rebel, show'rs destruction down.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> IV.</p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warren.</span></p>
+
+<div class="hangindent"><p><i>Mortally wounded, falling on his right knee, covering his breast
+with his right hand, and supporting himself with his firelock
+in his left.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">A deadly ball hath limited my life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now to God, I offer up my soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But O my Countrymen, let not the cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sacred cause of liberty, with me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint or expire. By the last parting breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blood of this your fellow soldier slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be now adjur'd, never to yield the right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grand deposit of all-giving Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To man's free nature, that he rule himself.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With these rude Britons, wage life-scorning war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till they admit it, and like hell fall off,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ebbing billows, from this troubl'd coast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where but for them firm Concord, and true love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should individual, hold their court and reign.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' infernal engin'ry of state, resist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To death, that unborn times may be secure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And while men flourish in the peace you win,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Write each fair name with worthies of the earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weep not your Gen'ral, who is snatch'd this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the embraces of a family,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Five virgin daughters young, and unendow'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now with the foe left lone and fatherless.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weep not for him who first espous'd the cause<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And risking life have met the enemy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In fatal opposition&mdash;But rejoice&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For now I go to mingle with the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great Brutus, Hampden, Sidney, and the rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of old or modern memory, who liv'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mound to tyrants, and strong hedge to kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bounding the inundation of their rage,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the happiness and peace of man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see these heroes where they walk serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By crystal currents, on the vale of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High in full converse of immortal acts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Achiev'd for truth and innocence on earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mean time the harmony and thrilling sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mellow lutes, sweet viols, and guitars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwell on the soul and ravish ev'ry nerve.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon the murmur of the tight-brac'd drum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With finely varied fifes to martial airs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wind up the spirit to the mighty proof<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of siege and battle, and attempt in arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Illustrious group! They beckon me along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ray my visage with immortal light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bind the amarinth around my brow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I come, I come, ye first-born of true fame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fight on, my countrymen, be <span class="smaller">FREE</span>, be <span class="smcap">Free.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> V. <i>Charles-town.</i></p>
+
+<div class="hangindent"><p><i>The reinforcement landed, and orders given to burn Charles-town,
+that they may march up more securely under the smoke. <span class="smcap">General
+Howe</span> rallies his repuls'd and broken troops.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Howe.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Curse on the fortune, of <i>Britannia's</i> arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That plays the jilt with us. Shall these few men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beat back the flower, and best half of our troops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on our side, so many ships of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And floating batt'ries, from the mystic tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shake all the hill, and sweep its ridgy top?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Gods! no time can blot its memory out.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We've men enough, upon the field today,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bury, this small handful, with the dust<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our march excites&mdash;back to the charge&mdash;close ranks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drive these wizards from th' enchanted ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reinforcement, which bold Clinton heads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gives such superiority of strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That let each man of us but cast a stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We cover this small hill, with these few foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over head, erect a pyramid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The smoke, you see, enwraps us in its shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On, then, my countrymen, and try once more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To change the fortune, of the inglorious day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> VI. <i>Bunkers-Hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gardiner</span> [<i>to the American Army</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">You see, brave soldiers, how an evil cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cause of slavery, and civil death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmans the spirit, and strikes down the soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant <i>Englishman</i>, whose fame in arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through every clime, shakes terribly the globe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is found this day, shorn of his wonted strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repuls'd, and driven from the flaming hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warren is fallen, on fair honour's bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pierc'd in the breast, with ev'ry wound before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis ours, now tenfold, to avenge his death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And offer up, a reg'ment of the foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Achilles-like, upon the Hero's tomb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, reinforc'd they face us yet again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And onward move in phalanx to the war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O noble spirits, let this bold attack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be bloody to their host. <span class="smcap">God</span> is our Aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give then full scope, to just revenge this day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> VII. <i>The Bay-Shore.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The British Army once more repuls'd, <span class="smcap">Howe</span> again rallies his
+flying troops.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Howe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But that so many mouths can witness it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would deny myself an <i>Englishman</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swear this day, that with such cowardice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No kindred, or alliance, has my birth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O base degen'rate souls, whose ancestors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Cressy, Poitiers, and at Agincourt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With tenfold numbers, combated, and pluck'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The budding laurels, from the brows of France.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to the charge, once more, and rather die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burn'd up, and wither'd on this bloody hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than live the blemish of your Country's fame,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With everlasting infamy, oppress'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their ammunition, as you hear, is spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that unless their looks, and visages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like fierce-ey'd Basilisks, can strike you dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Return, and rescue yet, sweet Countrymen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some share of honour, on this hapless day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let some brave officers stand on the rear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with the small sword, and sharp bayonet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drive on each coward that attempts to lag,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thus, sure death may find the villain out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With more dread certainty, than him who moves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full in the van, to meet the wrathful foe.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> VIII. <i>Bunkers-Hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Gardiner</span>, desperately wounded and borne from the field by two
+soldiers.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gardiner.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">A musket-ball, death-wing'd, hath pierc'd my groin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And widely op'd the swift curr'nt of my veins.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bear me then, Soldiers, to that hollow space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little hence, just in the hill's decline.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A surgeon there may stop the gushing wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gain a short respite to life, that yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I may return, and fight one half hour more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, shall I die in peace, and to my <span class="smcap">God</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surrender up, the spirit, which He gave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> IX.</p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Putnam</span> [<i>to the American Army</i>].</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Swift-rising fame, on early wing, mounts up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the convexity of bending Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And writes each name, who fought with us this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In fairest character, amidst the stars.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world shall read it, and still talk of us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, far out-number'd, twice drove back the foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With carnage horrid, murm'ring to their ships.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Ghost of Warren says, enough&mdash;I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One thousand veterans, mingled with the dust.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, for our sacred honour, and the wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Gard'ner feels, once more we charge&mdash;once more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear friends, and fence the obscur'd hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hecatombs of slain. Let every piece<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flash, like the fierce-consuming fire of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make the smoke, in which they wrap themselves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"A darkness visible."&mdash;Now once again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receive the battle, as a shore of rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ocean wave. And if at last we yield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave many a death, amidst their hollow ranks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To damp the measure, of their dear-bought joy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> X <i>and Last</i>. <i>Bunkers-Hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The American Army overpower'd by numbers are obliged to retreat.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Howe</span>, <span class="smcap">Pigot</span>, and <span class="smcap">Clinton</span> with the British Army.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Richardson</span> [<i>a young officer, on the parapet</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The day is ours, huzza, the day is ours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This last attack has forc'd them to retreat.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Clinton.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">'Tis true, full victory declares for us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we have dearly, dearly purchas'd it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full fifteen hundred of our men lie dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, with their officers, do swell the list<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this day's carnage&mdash;On the well-fought hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whole ranks cut down, lie struggling with their wounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or close their bright eyes, in the shades of night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No wonder! such incessant musketry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fire of Cannon, from the hill-top pour'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seem'd not the agency of mortal men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Heaven itself, with snares, and vengeance arm'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">T' oppose our gaining it. E'en when was spent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their ammunition, and fierce Warren slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Huge stones were hurled from the rocky brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And war renew'd, by these inveterate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Gard'ner wounded, the left wing gave way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with their shatter'd infantry, the whole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drawn off by Putnam, to the causeway fled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When from the ships, and batt'ries on the wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They met deep loss, and strew'd the narrow bridge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lifeless carcases. Oh, such a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since Sodom and Gomorrah sunk in flames,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath not been heard of by the ear of man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hath an eye beheld its parallel.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Lord Pigot.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The day is ours, but with heart-piercing loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of soldiers slain, and gallant officers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Abercrombie, on the field lies dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pitcairn and Sherwin, in sore battle slain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant reg'ment of Welsh fusileers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seventeen privates, is this day reduc'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grenadiers stand thinly on the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the tall fir-trees on the blasted heath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scorch'd by the autumnal burnings, which have rush'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wasting fire fierce through its leafy groves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should ev'ry hill by the rebellious foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So well defended, cost thus dear to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the united forces of the world,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could master them, and the proud rage subdue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of these <span class="smcap">Americans</span>.&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Howe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">E'en in an enemy I honour worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And valour eminent. The vanquish'd foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In feats of prowess shew their ancestry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And speak their birth legitimate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sons of Britons, with the genuine flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of British heat, and valour in their veins.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What pity 'tis, such excellence of mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should spend itself, in the fantastic cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wild-fire liberty.&mdash;Warren is dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lies unburied, on the smoky hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But with rich honours he shall be inhum'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To teach our soldiery, how much we love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">E'en in a foe, true worth and noble fortitude.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come then, brave soldiers, and take up the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Majors, and Col'nels, which are this day slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And noble Captains of sweet life bereft.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair flowers shall grow upon their grassy tombs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fame in tears shall tell their tragedy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To many a widow and soft weeping maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or parent woe-ful for an only son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through mourning <i>Britain</i>, and <i>Hibernia's</i> isle.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Burgoyne</span> from Boston.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Oft have I read, in the historic page,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And witnessed myself, high scenes in war:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But this rude day, unparallel'd in time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has no competitor&mdash;The gazing eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of many a soldier, from the chimney-tops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spires of Boston, witnessed when Howe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his full thousands, moving up the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receiv'd the onset of the impetuous foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hill itself, like Ida's burning mount,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Jove came down, in terrors, to dismay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Grecian host, enshrouded in thick flames;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round its margin, to the ebbing wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A town on fire, and rushing from its base,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ruin hideous, and combustion down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mean time, deep thunder, from the hollow sides<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the artill'ry, on the hilltop hear'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With roar of thunder, and loud mortars play'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the tall ships, and batt'ries on the wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bade yon blue ocean, and wide heaven resound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A scene like which, perhaps, no time shall know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Heav'n with final ruin fires the ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burns up the cities, and the works of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And wraps the mountains in one gen'ral blaze.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The End.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Written by a Gentleman of the Army.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hangindent"><i>Supposed to be spoken, immediately after the Battle; by <span class="smcap">Lieutenant
+Colonel Webb</span>, Aide-de-camp to <span class="smcap">General Putnam</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The field is theirs, but dearly was it bought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus long defended and severely fought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now pale-fac'd death sits brooding o'er the strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And views the carnage of his ruthless hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But why my heart this deep unbidden sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why steals the tear, soft trickling from the eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is <span class="smcap">Freedom</span> master'd by our late defeat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or <span class="smcap">Honour</span> wounded by a brave retreat?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis nature dictates; and in pride's despite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I mourn my brethren slaughter'd in the fight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' insulting foe now revels o'er the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet flush'd with victory, they feel the wound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embru'd in gore, they bleed from ev'ry part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deep wounds rankle at <i>Britannia's</i> heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O fatal conquest! Speak thou crimson'd plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now press'd beneath the weight of hundreds slain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There heaps of <i>British</i> youth promiscuous lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, murder'd <span class="smcap">Freemen</span> catch the wand'ring eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Observe yon stripling bath'd in purple gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He bleeds for <span class="smcap">Freedom</span> on his native shore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His livid eyes in drear convulsions roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While from his wounds escapes the flutt'ring soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathless and naked on th' ensanguin'd plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Midst friends and brothers, sons and fathers slain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No pitying hand his languid eyes to close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He breathes his last amidst insulting foes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His body plunder'd, massacred, abus'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Christians&mdash;Christian fun'ral rites refus'd&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrown as a carrion in the public way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Dogs, to Britons, and to Birds a prey.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enwrapt in sulph'rous flame and clouds of smoke,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Gard'ner sinks beneath the deadly stroke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Warren bleeds to grace the bloody strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for his injur'd country gives his life.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet while his mighty soul ascends the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On earth his blood for ten-fold vengeance cries.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great spirit rest&mdash;by Heaven it is decreed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy murd'ring tyrants by the sword shall bleed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">E'en racks and gibbets would but consecrate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And death repeated be too kind a fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sword is drawn, in peace no more to rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till justice bathes it in some tyrant's breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour my weapon with the glorious task,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let me stab, 'tis all the boon I ask.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kind pow'rs, beneath your all-protecting shield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I now unsheathe my sword, and take the field<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sure of success, with this sweet comfort giv'n,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fights for <span class="smcap">Freedom</span>,&mdash;fights the cause of <span class="smcap">Heav'n</span>.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AN_ODE" id="AN_ODE"></a>AN ODE</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>on the Battle of <span class="smcap">Bunkers-Hill</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>Sung and Acted by a Soldier in a Military Habit, with his Firelock,
+&amp;c.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>In the Same Measure with a Sea Piece, Entitled the "Tempest."</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Cease, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">I.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">You bold warriors, who resemble<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flames, upon the distant hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At whose view, the heroes tremble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fighting with unequal skill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loud-sounding drums now with hoarse murmurs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Rouse the spirit up to war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fear not, fear not, tho' their numbers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Much to ours, superior are.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear brave <span class="smcap">Warren</span> bold commanding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Gallant souls and vet'rans brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See the enemy just landing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the navy-cover'd wave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Close the wings&mdash;advance the center&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Engineers point well your guns&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clap the matches, let the rent air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bellow to <i>Britannia's</i> sons."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">II.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Now think you see, three thousand moving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Up the brow of <span class="smcap">Bunkers-Hill</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many a gallant vet'ran shoving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cowards on against their will.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The curling volumes all behind them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dusky clouds of smoke arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our cannon-balls, brave boys shall find them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At each shot a hero dies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more <span class="smcap">Warren</span> midst this terror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Charge, brave soldiers, charge again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many an expert vet'ran warrior<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the enemy is slain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Level well your charged pieces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In direction to the town;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shake, they shake, their lightning ceases,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That shot brought six standards down."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">III.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Maids in virgin beauty blooming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On <i>Britannia's</i> sea-girt isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say no more your swains are coming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or with songs the day beguile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sleeping sound in death's embraces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On their clay-cold beds they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death, grim death, alas defaces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Youth and pleasure which must die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"March the right wing, <span class="smcap">Gard'ner</span>, yonder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Take th' assailing foe in flank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hero's spirit lives in thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Close there, sergeants, close that rank.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The conflict now doth loudly call on<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Highest proof of martial skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The slipp'ry brow of <span class="smcap">Bunkers-Hill</span>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">IV.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Unkindest fortune, still thou changest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As the wind upon the wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good and bad alike thou rangest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Undistinguish'd in the grave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall kingly tyrants see thee smiling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whilst the brave and just must die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them of sweet hope and life beguiling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the arms of victory?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Behave this day, my lads, with spirit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wrap the hill-top as in flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, if we fall, let each one merit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Immortality in fame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From this high ground like Vesuv'us<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pour the floods of fire along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let not, let not, numbers move us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We are yet five hundred strong."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">V.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Many a widow sore bewailing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Tender husbands, shall remain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With tears and sorrows, unavailing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From this hour to mourn them slain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rude scene striking all by-standers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bids the little band retire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who can live like salamanders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In such floods of liquid fire?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah! Our troops are sorely pressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Howe</span> ascends the smoky hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wheel inward, let these ranks be faced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We have yet some blood to spill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our right wing push'd, our left surrounded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Weight of numbers five to one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Warren</span> dead, and <span class="smcap">Gard'ner</span> wounded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ammunition is quite gone."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">VI.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">See the steely points, bright gleaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the sun's fierce dazzling ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Groans arising, life-blood streaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Purple o'er the face of day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The field is cover'd with the dying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Free-men mixt with tyrants lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The living with each other vying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Raise the shout of battle high.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now brave <span class="smcap">Putnam</span>, aged soldier,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Come, my vet'rans, we must yield;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More equal match'd, we'll yet charge bolder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the present quit the field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The <span class="smcap">God</span> of battles shall revisit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On their heads each soul that dies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take courage, boys, we yet sha'n't miss it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From a thousand victories."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="A_SPEECH" id="A_SPEECH"></a>A SPEECH</h2>
+
+<p class="hangindent"><i>By <span class="smcap">General Washington</span>, 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.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Auspicious day, of happiness unmix'd!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When this fair City, without blood-shed won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receives to her sweet bosom, once again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her free-born sons, of perseverance try'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And noble fortitude, in deeds of arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now let the father meet his infant son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His virgin daughter, and long faithful spouse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kiss away all tears, but those of joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, let the ardent lover clasp his fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New flush the red rose in her damask cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light up the glad beam in her rolling eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bid all pain and sorrowing be gone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, happy day&mdash;Shine on thou blissful sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not one vapour blemish thy career,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till from thy mid-day champaign, wheeling do<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou in the western ocean go to rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O happy town&mdash;Now let thy buildings smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy streets run down, with silver floods of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from thy temples, loudly, hymn and song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweep the high arches of resounding Heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, fellow soldiers, let us bend to him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who gave us strength, and confidence of soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet the Battle and fierce iron war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urg'd on severe by the tyrannic foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With deadly thunder, and mischievous arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To him who with his tempest, bulg'd the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their full hundred war-ships, on the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chain'd, with his strong wind, to the North-east shore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hand of Heaven, is visible in this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we, O God, pour forth our souls in praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O fellow soldiers, let our off'rings rise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not in rich hecatombs, of bulls and goats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in true piety, and light of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And warm devotion, in the inward part.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let your festivity be mix'd with thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sober judgment, on this grand event.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">March on, and take true pleasure to your arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You all are bridegrooms, to fair joy to-day.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a id="MILITARY_SONG" name="MILITARY_SONG"></a>A</h2>
+<h2>MILITARY SONG</h2>
+<h3>by the</h3>
+<h2>ARMY:</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>On <span class="smcap">General Washington's</span> victorious entry into
+the Town of Boston.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2">I.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Sons of valour, taste the glories,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Celestial <span class="smcap">Liberty</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing a Triumph o'er the Tories<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let the pulse of joy beat high.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">II.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Heaven this day hath foil'd the many<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fallacies of <span class="smcap">George</span> their King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the echo reach Britan'y,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bid her mountain summits ring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">III.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">See yon Navy swell the bosom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the late enraged sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where e'er they go we shall oppose them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sons of valour must be free.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">IV.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Should they touch at fair <span class="smcap">Rhode-Island</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There to combat with the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Driven, from each hill, and high-land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They shall plough the purple wave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">V.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Should they thence, to fair <span class="smcap">Virgin'y</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bend a squadron to <span class="smcap">Dunmore</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still with fear and ignominy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They shall quit the hostile shore.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">VI.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">To <span class="smcap">Carolina</span> or to <span class="smcap">Georg'y</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should they next advance their fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This land of heroes shall disgorge the<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sons of tyranny and shame.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">VII.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Let them rove to climes far distant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Situate under Arctic skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Call on Hessian troops assistant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the Savages to rise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">VIII.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Boast of wild brigades from Russia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To fix down the galling chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Canada and Nova Scotia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall discharge these hordes again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">IX.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">In <span class="smcap">New-York</span> State rejoin'd by <span class="smcap">Clinton</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should their standards mock the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many a surgeon shall put lint on<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wounds of death received there.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">X.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">War, fierce war, shall break their forces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nerves of tory men shall fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeing <span class="smcap">Howe</span> with alter'd courses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bending to the western gale.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">XI.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Thus, from every bay of ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flying back, with sails unfurl'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tost with ever-troubl'd motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They shall quit this smiling world.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2">XII.</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-left:-8em;">
+<span class="i0">Like Satan banished from <span class="smcap">Heaven</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Never see the smiling shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From this land so happy, driven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Never stain its bosom more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The End.</i></p>
+
+<div class="tnote gap3"><p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Notes:</b></p>
+<p>General: The variable hyphenation of Charles(-)town, hill(-)top,
+Free(-)men, ten(-)fold, thunder(-)bolts and to(-)day in the original has
+been preserved in this transcription.</p>
+<p>On page 241, Ioor has been capitalised in line with other playwrights</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's The Battle of Bunkers-Hill, by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Battle of Bunkers-Hill
+
+Author: Hugh Henry Brackenridge
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29225]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
+
+This e-book contains the text of _The Battle of Bunkers-Hill_, extracted
+from Representative Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819.
+Comments and background to all the plays and the other plays are
+available at Project Gutenberg.
+
+Spelling as in the original has been preserved.
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL
+
+_By_
+
+HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE
+
+[Illustration: HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE]
+
+
+
+
+HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE
+
+(1748-1816)
+
+
+The battle of Bunker's Hill was an event which stirred whatever dramatic
+activity there was in America at the time of the Revolution. Therefore,
+a play written on the subject should not be omitted from a collection
+supposed to be representative of the different periods in American
+history and in American thought. The reader has an interesting
+comparison to make in Hugh Henry Brackenridge's play, which the
+title-page declares is "A dramatic piece of five acts, in heroic
+measure, by a gentleman of Maryland," and a later piece entitled "Bunker
+Hill, or the Death of General Warren," written by John Daly Burk
+(1776-1808), who came to America because of certain political
+disturbances, and published his drama with a Dedication to Aaron Burr
+(1797), the year it was given in New York for the first time.[1] It will
+be found that the former play is conceived in a better spirit, and is
+more significant because of the fact that it was written so soon after
+the actual event.
+
+It is natural that Hugh Henry Brackenridge should have been inspired by
+the Revolution, and should have been prompted by the loyal spirit of the
+patriots of the time. For he was the stuff from which patriots are made,
+having, in his early life, been reared in Pennsylvania, even though he
+first saw the light near Campbletown, Scotland, in 1748. His father (who
+moved to America in 1753) was a poor farmer, and Hugh received his
+schooling under precarious conditions, as many boys of that time did. We
+are given pictures of him, trudging thirty miles in all kinds of
+weather, in order to borrow books and newspapers, and we are told that,
+being quick in the learning of languages, he made arrangements with a
+man, who knew mathematics, to trade accomplishments in order that he
+himself might become better skilled in the science of calculation.
+
+At the age of fifteen, he was so well equipped that he was engaged to
+teach school in Maryland, at Gunpowder Falls, some of his pupils being
+so much larger and older than he that, at one time, he had to take a
+brand from the fire, and strike one of them, in order to gain ascendency
+over him.
+
+At eighteen, pocketing whatever money he had saved, he went to President
+Witherspoon, of the College of New Jersey, arranging with that divine to
+teach classes in order that he might afford to remain and study. While
+there, among his classmates may be counted James Madison, future
+president of the United States, Philip Freneau, the poet, and others of
+later note. Aaron Burr was a Junior at the time of Brackenridge's
+graduation, as was William Bradford. Though he was on intimate terms
+with Madison, he was much more the friend of Freneau, the two writing
+together "The Rising Glory of America." Should one take the complete
+piece, which was read by Brackenridge at Commencement, and mark therein
+that part of the poem composed by Freneau, and included later in
+Freneau's published works, one might very readily understand that
+Brackenridge was less the poet, even though in some ways he may have
+been more versatile as a writer.
+
+This piece, "The Rising Glory of America,"[2] is representative of a
+type of drama which was fostered and encouraged by the colleges of the
+time. We find Francis Hopkinson, in the College of Philadelphia, writing
+various dialogues, like his "Exercise: Containing a Dialogue [by the
+Rev. Dr. Smith] and Ode, sacred to the memory of his late gracious
+Majesty George II. Performed at the public commencement in the College
+of Philadelphia, May, 1761." Yet Hopkinson was one of the Signers of the
+Declaration of Independence!
+
+What says Abbe Robin, viewing Harvard in 1781:
+
+    Their pupils often act tragedies, the subject of which is
+    generally taken from their national events, such as the battle
+    of Bunker's Hill, the burning of Charlestown, the death of
+    General Montgomery, the capture of Burgoyne, the treason of
+    Arnold, and the Fall of British Tyranny. You will easily
+    conclude that in such a new nation as this, these pieces must
+    fall infinitely short of that perfection to which our European
+    literary productions of this kind are wrought up; but, still,
+    they have a greater effect upon the mind than the best of ours
+    would have among them, because those manners and customs are
+    delineated, which are peculiar to themselves, and the events are
+    such as interest them above all others. The drama is here
+    reduced to its true and Ancient origin.
+
+Nathaniel Evans also wrote dialogues, performed at the public
+Commencements in Philadelphia, like the one on May 17, 1763. We have
+already noted that "The Prince of Parthia" was written as a college
+play. "The Military Glory of Great Britain" was also prepared as an
+entertainment by the graduates of the College of New Jersey, held in
+Nassau-Hall, September 29, 1762, with the authorship unknown. It was a
+type of play which tempted many men, who later tried their hand at more
+important dramatic work.
+
+Another interesting title of the time ran as follows:
+
+    An/Exercise,/containing/a Dialogue and Ode/On the Accession of
+    His present gracious Majesty,/George III./Performed at the
+    public Commencement in the College of/Philadelphia, May 18th,
+    1762./Philadelphia:/Printed by W. Dunlap, in Market-Street,
+    M,DCC,LXII./
+
+In order to understand the spirit which prompted both Brackenridge and
+Freneau, one needs must turn to an account of the latter's life, and
+learn therefrom certain facts concerning the early college spirit of
+Brackenridge, which was ignored by his son in the only authentic record
+of his life we have.
+
+From Freneau we understand, for example, that, as early as June 24,
+1769, a certain number of students banded themselves into an
+undergraduate fraternity, called the American Whig Society, the chief
+members of that association being Madison, Brackenridge, Bradford, and
+Freneau himself. There is a manuscript book in the possession of the
+Historical Society of Pennsylvania, originally owned by Bradford, and
+containing some of their later poetical tirades. It is called "Satires
+against the Whigs," and is composed of ten pastorals by Brackenridge and
+a number of satires by Freneau. It is strange that the intimacy between
+Brackenridge and Freneau did not lead to their rooming together while at
+College, Brackenridge giving way to James Madison. But we do know that
+the two were very intimately associated in early literary work, and, in
+the manuscript book just mentioned, there is contained the fragment of a
+novel written alternately by the two, and called "Father Bombo's
+Pilgrimage to Mecca in Arabia."
+
+Then followed "The Rising Glory of America," which, when Brackenridge
+graduated, September 25, 1771, was announced on the program of
+events--afternoon division--as being entirely by himself. This must have
+been an oversight, inasmuch as Freneau had more than a mere hand in the
+execution of the piece, and inasmuch as we possess Brackenridge's own
+confession "that on his part it was a task of labour, while the verse of
+his associate flowed spontaneously."
+
+The college life of the time was not devoted entirely to literary
+creativeness or to political discussions. There is published an address
+by President Witherspoon to the inhabitants of Jamaica (1772), in which
+he outlined the course of study to which the students were subjected. It
+indicates, very excellently, the classical training that Brackenridge,
+Freneau, and Madison had to undergo. In fact, we find, on Commencement
+Day, Freneau debating on "Does Ancient Poetry excel the Modern?" and
+throwing all his energy in favour of the affirmative argument. And
+Brackenridge, selected to deliver the Salutatory, rendered it in Latin,
+"De societate hominum." (See Pennsylvania _Chronicle_; John Maclean's
+"History of the College of New Jersey," i, 312; Madison's correspondence
+while a student; also Philip Vickers Fithian's Journal and Letters:
+1764-1774. Student at Princeton College: 1770-1772. Tutor at Nomini Hall
+in Virginia: 1773-1774. Ed. ... by J. R. Williams. Princeton, 1900.) The
+Princeton historian points to this class of 1771 as being so patriotic
+that a unanimous vote was taken to appear at graduation in nothing but
+things of American manufacture.[3]
+
+This much we do know regarding the early life of Brackenridge: that he
+was always pressed for money, that it was his indefatigableness and
+thirst for knowledge which carried him through the schools of the time,
+and through college.
+
+His son even confesses that his father was obliged, on one occasion, to
+write an address which one of the students had to deliver, and to
+receive in payment therefor a new suit of clothes!
+
+It was after his graduation that Brackenridge tutored in the College for
+a while, meantime taking up a course in theology. After this, he
+accepted a position as teacher in a school on the eastern shore of
+Maryland, because the "Academy" offered him a most flattering salary,
+and he could not reject it, however much he may have been interested in
+his college work. No sooner was he established there than he wrote to
+his friend, Freneau, inviting him to take the second position in the
+Maryland Seminary. This position was accepted by Freneau, who wrote to
+James Madison on November 22, 1772, mentioning therein that Brackenridge
+was at the head of Sommerset Academy, to which he himself had come on
+October 18th of that year, and where he was teaching the young idea and
+pursuing at the same time his theological studies.
+
+As illustration of how much Freneau was at heart in tune with the work,
+we note that he says, "We have about thirty students in this Academy who
+prey upon me like leeches."
+
+According to Brackenridge's son, whose Memoir of his father is published
+in the 1846 edition of "Modern Chivalry," there must, however, have been
+in this part of Maryland a polished social atmosphere, which gave ample
+opportunity for the wit, the scholarship, and the conversational and
+social powers of Brackenridge to develop.
+
+For the students of Sommerset Academy, Brackenridge wrote his play, "The
+Battle of Bunkers-Hill,"[4] and though there is no record of this piece
+having been actually presented, it is generally agreed that the
+Principal wrote his drama as an exercise for the pupils to perform. It
+was published anonymously, the fashion of the day which has led to many
+disputes,--for example, as to the authorship claims of John Leacock and
+Mrs. Mercy Warren. Royall Tyler was likewise diffident about letting his
+name appear on the title-page of "The Contrast."
+
+When published in 1776, Brackenridge's piece was dedicated to Richard
+Stockton, and its tone and temper are thoroughly indicative of the
+spirit that must have dominated all his writings while at College.
+
+The year 1776 marks Brackenridge's severance from teaching work. He soon
+after went to Philadelphia with his small fortune of one thousand
+pounds, and continued his efforts to make a livelihood by editing the
+_United States Magazine_, which afforded him an opportunity of airing
+his patriotic views, and gave him the added pleasure of inviting his
+associate, Freneau, to become one of the leading contributors. The
+following year, even though he had never been ordained in the Church,
+Brackenridge, nevertheless, a licensed divine, enlisted as Chaplain in
+the Revolutionary Army, and there are extant a number of vigorous
+political sermons which it was his wont to deliver to the soldiers--the
+same fiery eloquence seen in his "Eulogium on the Brave Men who fell in
+the Contest with Great Britain," delivered in 1778.
+
+Some time elapsed while he travelled hither and thither with a bible in
+his saddle-bags, according to description, and then Brackenridge took up
+the study of law, inasmuch as his very advanced views on religious
+questions would not allow him to subscribe to all the tenets of his
+Presbyterian faith. This drew down upon him the inimical strictures of
+the pulpit, but marked him as a man of intellectual bravery and certain
+moral daring.
+
+Having completed his law reading in Annapolis, under Samuel Chase,
+afterwards Supreme Court Judge, he crossed the Alleghanies, in 1781, and
+established himself in Pittsburgh, where he rapidly grew in reputation,
+through his personal magnetism and his undoubted talents as a lawyer. He
+was strictly in favour of the Federal Constitution, and those who wish
+to fathom his full political importance should not only study his record
+as Judge of the Supreme Court of the State of Pennsylvania, when he was
+appointed by Governor McKean, but, more significant still, the part he
+took in the Whiskey Insurrection, which brought him in touch with Albert
+Gallatin. In accord with the temper of the times, he was a man of party
+politics, although he never allowed his prejudices to interfere with his
+duties on the bench. As a Judge, his term of office ran from 1800 to the
+day of his death, June 25, 1816.
+
+Mr. Brackenridge, besides being the author of the dialogue and play
+mentioned, likewise wrote several other dramas, among them being a
+tragedy, "The Death of General Montgomery at the Siege of Quebec"
+(1777), and a number of Odes and Elegies. The historical student will
+find much material relating to Brackenridge's political manoeuvres, in
+his book on the Western Insurrection; but probably as an author he is
+more justly famous for his series of stories and sketches published
+under the title, "Modern Chivalry" (1792), and representing a certain
+type of prose writing distinctive of American letters of the time of
+Clay and Crawford. These impressions were later added to. It is a type
+to be compared with the literary work done in the Southern States by J.
+J. Hooper, Judge Longstreet, and Judge Baldwin in ante-bellum days.
+
+Among Brackenridge's other works may be mentioned:
+
+An account of Pittsburgh in 1786. (Pittsburgh _Gazette_, July 29, 1786.
+Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh: _Monthly Bulletin_, 1902, v., 257-262,
+288-290, 332-335.)
+
+The Adventures of Captain Farrago. Philadelphia, 1856.
+
+The Adventures of Major O'Regan. Philadelphia, 1856.
+
+Gazette Publications. Carlisle, 1806.
+
+Incidents of the Insurrection in the western parts of Pennsylvania.
+Philadelphia, 1795.
+
+Law Miscellanies. Philadelphia, 1814.
+
+Narrative of the late Expedition against the Indians. 1798.
+
+An Occasional Paper by Democritus, entitled "The Standard of Liberty."
+1802.
+
+Political Miscellany. 1793.
+
+There are many plays extant dealing specifically with events connected
+with the Revolution and the War of 1812. For a discussion of same, see
+an article by A. E. Lancaster, "Historical American Plays,"
+_Chautauquan_, 31:359-364, 1900; also see the present editor's "The
+American Dramatist," Chapter III. Note the following plays particularly:
+
+C. E. GRICE. "The Battle of New Orleans; or, Glory, Love and Loyalty."
+An Historical and National Drama. 1816.
+
+W. IOOR. "The Battle of the Eutaw Springs, and Evacuation of Charleston;
+or, the Glorious 14th of December, 1782." A National Drama. Played in
+Charleston, 1817.
+
+S. B. H. JUDAH. "A Tale of Lexington." A National Comedy, founded on the
+opening of the Revolution. 1823.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] Burk wrote another play, "Female Patriotism; or, The Death of Joan
+d'Arc," given a New York production in 1798. An interesting letter from
+Burk to J. Hodgkinson, who produced his "Bunker Hill," is to be found in
+Dunlap's "The American Theatre" (London, 1833, i, 313). The play has
+been reissued by the Dunlap Society (1891, no. 15), and edited, with an
+introduction by Brander Matthews.
+
+[2] Philadelphia:/Printed by Joseph Crukshank, for R.
+Aitken,/Bookseller, Opposite the London-Coffee-/House, in
+Front-Street./M,DCC,LXXII./
+
+[3] The students of Princeton have not revived the "Battle of
+Bunkers-Hill," but they point still with some pride to the ivy which was
+planted by the class of 1771.
+
+[4] The/Battle/of/Bunkers-Hill./A Dramatic Piece,/of Five Acts,/in
+Heroic Measure. /By a Gentleman of Maryland./--Pulcrumque mori succurrit
+in armis./Virgil./--'Tis glorious to die in Battle.--/Philadelphia:/
+Printed and Sold by Robert Bell, in Third-Street./MDCCLXXVI./
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE
+
+BATTLE
+
+OF
+
+BUNKERS-HILL.
+
+A DRAMATIC PIECE,
+
+OF FIVE ACTS,
+
+IN HEROIC MEASURE.
+
+
+BY A GENTLEMAN OF MARYLAND.
+
+
+----_Pulcrumque mori succurrit in armis._
+
+VIRGIL.
+
+'Tis glorious to die in Battle.
+
+
+PHILADELPHIA:
+
+Printed and Sold by ROBERT BELL, in Third-Street.
+
+MDCCLXXVI.
+
+
+FAC-SIMILE TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION]
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+RICHARD STOCKTON, _Esquire_;
+
+MEMBER
+
+OF THE HONOURABLE,
+
+THE
+
+CONTINENTAL CONGRESS,
+
+for the State
+
+of
+
+NEW-JERSEY.
+
+SIR,
+
+I take the Freedom to Inscribe with YOUR Name, the following short
+Performance in Honour of some brave MEN, who have fallen in the Cause of
+LIBERTY.
+
+It was at first drawn up for an Exercise in Oratory, to a number of
+young Gentlemen in a southern Academy, but being now Published, may
+serve the same Purpose, in other AMERICAN Seminaries.
+
+The many Civilities, received from YOUR Family, at an earlier Period of
+my Life, while a Student at NEW-JERSEY College, demand the warmest
+Gratitude; and I do continually, with the most sincere Pleasure,
+recollect and acknowledge them.
+
+It is my fervent wish, that the Ruler of the Universe may Crown with
+Success, the Cause of FREEDOM, and speedily relieve our bleeding Country
+in whose Service YOU have distinguishedly exerted YOUR eminent
+Abilities, by assisting HER Deliberations in the grand Council of the
+Empire.
+
+SIR,
+
+I am,
+With great Respect,
+Your much obliged,
+and most humble Servant,
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+to the
+
+BATTLE
+
+of
+
+BUNKERS-HILL
+
+_By a Lieutenant Colonel in the CONTINENTAL ARMY._
+
+
+This mighty Era big with dread alarms,
+Aloud calls each AMERICAN to arms.
+Let ev'ry Breast with martial ardour glow,
+Nor dread to meet the proud usurping foe.
+What tho' our bodies feel an earthly chain,
+Still the free soul, unblemish'd and serene
+Enjoys a mental LIBERTY,--a charm,
+Beyond the power of fate itself to harm.
+Should vict'ry crown us in the doubtful strife--
+Eternal honours mark the hero's life.
+Should Wounds and slaughter be our hapless doom--
+Unfading laurels deck the Martyr's Tomb:
+A sure reward awaits his soul on high,
+On earth his memory shall never die,
+For when we read the fatal story o'er,
+One tear shall drop for him who is--no more,
+Who nobly struggled to support our laws,
+And bravely fell in freedom's sacred cause.
+  Let virtue fire us to the martial deed;
+We fight to conquer and we dare to bleed:
+Witness ye fathers! whose protracted time,
+Fruitful of story, chronicles the clime.
+These howling deserts, hospitably tame,
+Erst snatch'd you martyrs, from the hungry flame;
+'Twas Heav'n's own cause, beneath whose shelt'ring power,
+Ye grew the wonder of this present hour--
+The task--be ours with unremitted toil,         }
+To guard the rights of this dear-purchas'd soil,}
+From Royal plund'rers, greedy of our spoil,     }
+Who come resolv'd to murder and enslave,
+To shackle FREEMEN and to rob the brave.
+The loud mouth'd cannon threaten from afar,
+Be this our comfort in the storm of war--
+Who fights, to take our liberty away,
+Dead-hearted fights, and falls an easy prey.
+Then, on my brethren to the embattl'd plain,
+Who shrinks with fear, anticipates a chain.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+
+WARREN     }
+PUTNAM     } _American Officers._
+GARDINER   }
+
+GAGE       }
+HOWE       }
+BURGOYNE   } _British Officers._
+CLINTON    }
+LORD PIGOT }
+
+SHERWIN, _Aide-de-camp to General Howe._
+
+Soldiers, &c.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+BATTLE
+
+OF
+
+BUNKERS-HILL
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Camp at Cambridge._
+
+_Enter WARREN, PUTNAM, and GARDINER._
+
+WARREN.
+
+  Why thus, brave Putnam, shall we still encamp
+Inactive here; and with this gentle flood,
+By Cambridge murmuring, mix briny tears?
+Salt tears of grief by many a parent shed,
+For sons detain'd, and tender innocents
+In yon fair City, famishing for bread;
+For not fond mothers or their weeping babes--
+Can move the hard heart of relentless Gage.
+Perfidious man! Who pledg'd his oath so late,
+And word of honour to those patriots
+Yet in his power, that yielding him their arms,
+They should receive permission to depart,
+And join once more their valiant countrymen;
+But now detains as hostages these men,
+In low damp dungeons, and in gaols chain'd down
+While grief and famine on their vitals prey.
+Say, noble Putnam, shall we hear of this,
+And let our idle swords rust in the sheath,
+While slaves of Royal Power impeach our worth
+As vain, and call our patience cowardice?
+
+PUTNAM.
+
+  Not less, bold Warren, have I felt the pangs
+Of woe severe in this calamity:
+And could I with my life redeem the times,
+The richest blood that circles round my heart,
+Should hastily be shed. But what avails
+The genuine flame and vigour of the soul,
+When nature's self, and all the strength of art,
+Opposes every effort in our power?
+These sons of slavery dare not advance,
+And meet in equal fight our hostile arms.
+For yet they well remember LEXINGTON,
+And what they suffer'd on that rueful day,
+When wantoning in savage rage, they march'd
+Onward to CONCORD, in a firm array,
+Mock music playing, and the ample flag
+Of tyranny display'd; but with dire loss
+And infamy drove back, they gain'd the town,
+And under cover of their ships of war,
+Retir'd, confounded and dismay'd. No more
+In mirthful mood to combat us, or mix
+Their jocund music with the sounds of war.
+To tempt no more unequal fight with men,
+Who to oppose dire arbitrary sway,
+Have grasp'd the sword: and resolute to brave
+Death in a thousand dreary shapes, can know,
+In the warm breast, no sentiment of fear.
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  The free born spirit of immortal fire
+Is stranger to ignoble deeds, and shuns
+The name of cowardice. But well thy mind,
+Sage, and matur'd by long experience, weighs
+The perilous attempt, to storm the town,
+And rescue thence, the suff'ring citizens.
+For but one pass to that peninsula,
+On which the city stands, on all sides barr'd.
+And here what numbers can supply the rage,
+Of the all devouring, deep mouth'd cannon, plac'd,
+On many a strong redoubt: while on each side,
+The ships of war, moor'd, in the winding bay,
+Can sweep ten thousand from the level beach,
+"And render all access impregnable."
+
+WARREN.
+
+  True, valiant Gard'ner, the attempt is vain,
+To force that entrance to the sea-girt town;
+Which while we hop'd for peace, and in that view,
+Kept back our swords, we saw them fortify.
+But what if haply, with a chosen few,
+Led through the midnight shades, yon heights were gain'd,
+And that contiguous hill, whose grassy foot,
+By Mystic's gentle tide is wash'd. Here rais'd,
+Strong batt'ries jutting o'er the level sea,
+With everlasting thunder, shall annoy
+Their navy far beneath; and in some lucky hour,
+When dubious darkness on the land is spread,
+A chosen band may pierce their sep'rate fleet,
+And in swift boats, across the narrow tide,
+Pour like a flame, on their unguarded ranks,
+And wither them: As when an angel smote
+The Assyrian camp. The proud Sennacherib,
+With impious rage, against the hill of God,
+Blasphem'd. Low humbl'd, when the dawning light,
+Saw all his host dead men: So yet I trust,
+The God of battles will avouch our cause,
+And those proud champions of despotic power,
+Who turn our fasting to their mirth, and mock
+Our prayers, naming us the SAINTS, shall yet,
+Repay with blood, the tears and agonies,
+Of tender mothers, and their infant babes,
+Shut up in BOSTON.
+
+PUTNAM.
+
+                     Heaven, smile on us then,
+And favour this attempt. Now from our troops,
+Seven hundred gallant men, and skill'd in arms,
+With speed select, choice spirits of the war.
+By you led on, brave Gard'ner, to the heights,
+Ere yet the morn with dawning light breaks forth,
+Intrench on BUNKERS-HILL; and when the day
+First o'er the hill top rises, we shall join
+United arms, against the assailing foe,
+Should they attempt to cross the narrow tide,
+In deep battalion to regain the hill.
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  The thought is perilous, and many men,
+In this bold enterprise, must strew the ground.
+But since we combat in the cause of God,
+I draw my sword, nor shall the sheath again
+Receive the shining blade, till on the heights
+Of CHARLES-TOWN, and BUNKER'S pleasant HILL,
+It drinks the blood of many a warrior slain.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Boston._
+
+_Enter GAGE, HOWE, and BURGOYNE._
+
+BURGOYNE.
+
+  How long, brave gen'rals, shall the rebel foe,
+In vain arrangements, and mock siege, display
+Their haughty insolence?--Shall in this town,
+So many thousands, of _Britannia's_ troops,
+With watch incessant, and sore toil oppress'd,
+Remain besieg'd? A vet'ran army pent,
+In the inclosure, of so small a space,
+By a disorder'd herd, untaught, unofficer'd.
+Let not sweet Heav'n, the envious mouth of fame,
+With breath malignant, o'er the Atlantic wave
+Bear this to Europe's shores, or tell to France,
+Or haughty Spain, of LEXINGTON'S retreat.
+Who could have thought it, in the womb of time,
+That _British_ soldiers, in this latter age,
+Beat back by peasants, and in flight disgrac'd,
+Could tamely brook the base discomfiture;
+Nor sallying out, with spirit reassum'd,
+Exact due tribute of their victory?
+Drive back the foe, to Alleghany hills,
+In woody valleys, or on mountain tops,
+To mix with wolves and kindred savages.
+
+GAGE.
+
+  This mighty paradox, will soon dissolve.
+Hear first, Burgoyne, the valour of these men,
+Fir'd with the zeal, of fiercest liberty,
+No fear of death, so terrible to all,
+Can stop their rage. Grey-headed clergymen,
+With holy bible, and continual prayer,
+Bear up their fortitude--and talk of heav'n,
+And tell them, that sweet soul, who dies in battle,
+Shall walk, with spirits of the just. These words
+Add wings to native rage, and hurry them
+Impetuous to war. Nor yet in arms
+Unpractised. The day of LEXINGTON
+A sad conviction gave our soldiery,
+That these AMERICANS, were not that herd,
+And rout ungovern'd, which we painted them.
+
+HOWE.
+
+  Not strange to your maturer thought, Burgoyne,
+This matter will appear. A people brave,
+Who never yet, of luxury, or soft
+Delights, effeminate, and false, have tasted.
+But, through hate of chains, and slav'ry, suppos'd,
+Forsake their mountain tops, and rush to arms.
+Oft have I heard their valour published:
+Their perseverance, and untamable,
+Fierce mind, when late they fought with us, and drove,
+The French encroaching on their settlements,
+Back to their frozen lakes. Or when with us
+On Cape Breton, they stormed Louisburg.
+With us in Canada, they took Quebec;
+And at the Havannah, these NEW-ENGLAND MEN,
+Led on by Putnam, acted gallantly.
+I had a brother once, who in that war,
+With fame commanded them, and when he fell,
+Not unlamented; for these warriors,
+So brave themselves, and sensible of merit,
+Erected him a costly monument;
+And much it grieves me that I draw my sword,
+For this late insurrection and revolt,
+To chastise them. Would to Almighty God,
+The task unnatural, had been assign'd,
+Elsewhere. But since by Heaven, determined,
+Let's on, and wipe the day of LEXINGTON,
+Thus soil'd, quite from our soldiers' memories.
+This reinforcement, which with us have fail'd,
+In many a transport, from _Britannia's_ shores,
+Will give new vigour to the Royal Arms,
+And crush rebellion, in its infancy.
+Let's on, and from this siege, calamitous,
+Assert our liberty; nay, rather die,
+Transfix'd in battle, by their bayonets,
+Than thus remain, the scoff and ridicule
+Of gibing wits, and paltry gazetteers,
+On this, their madding continent, who cry,
+Where is the _British_ valour: that renown
+Which spoke in thunder, to the Gallic shores?
+That spirit is evaporate, that fire;
+Which erst distinguish'd them, that flame;
+And gen'rous energy of soul, which fill'd
+Their Henrys, Edwards, thunder-bolts of war;
+Their Hampdens, Marlboroughs, and the immortal Wolfe,
+On the Abraham heights, victorious.
+_Britannia's_ genius, is unfortunate,
+And flags, say they, when Royal tyranny
+Directs her arms. This let us then disprove,
+In combat speedily, and take from them,
+The wantonness of this fell pride, and boasting.
+
+GAGE.
+
+  Tho' much I dread the issue of the attempt,
+So full of hazard, and advent'rous spirit;
+Yet since your judgment, and high skill in arms,
+From full experience, boldly prompts you on,
+I give my voice, and when one day hath pass'd,
+In whose swift hours, may be wrought, highly up,
+The resolution, of the soldiery,
+With soothing words, and ample promises,
+Of rich rewards, in lands and settlements,
+From the confiscate property throughout,
+These rebel colonies, at length subdu'd;
+Then march we forth, beat up their drowsy camp,
+And with the sun, to this safe capital,
+Return, rich, with the triumphs of the war.
+And be our plan, that which brave Haldiman,
+Ere yet recall'd, advis'd to us. Let first,
+Brave Howe, and Clinton, on that western point,
+Land with the transports, and mean time Burgoyne,
+With the artillery, pour sharp cannonade,
+Along the neck, and sweep, the beachy plain,
+Which lies to Roxborough, where yon western stream,
+Flowing from Cambridge, mixes with the Bay.
+Thus, these AMERICANS, shall learn to dread,
+The force of discipline, and skill in arms.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_Enter GARDINER, with seven hundred men._
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  This is the hill, brave countrymen, whose brow
+We mean to fortify. A strong redoubt,
+With saliant angles, and embrasures deep,
+Be speedily thrown up. Let each himself,
+Not undeserving, of our choice approve,
+For out of thousands, I have challeng'd you,
+To this bold enterprise, as men of might,
+And valour eminent, and such this day,
+I trust, will honour you. Let each his spade,
+And pick-axe, vig'rously, in this hard soil,
+Where I have laid, the curved line, exert.
+For now the morning star, bright Lucifer,
+Peers on the firmament, and soon the day,
+Flush'd with the golden sun, shall visit us.
+Then gallant countrymen, should faithless Gage,
+Pour forth his lean, and half-starv'd myrmidons;
+We'll make them taste our cartridges, and know,
+What rugged steel, our bayonets are made of;
+Or if o'er charg'd, with numbers, bravely fall,
+Like those three hundred at Thermopylae,
+And give our Country, credit in our deaths.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Boston._
+
+GAGE [_solus_].
+
+  Oh, sweet tranquillity, and peace of soul,
+That in the bosom of the cottager,
+Tak'st up thy residence--cannot the beams,
+Of royal sunshine, call thee to my breast?
+Fair honour, waits on thee, renown abroad,
+And high dominion, o'er this Continent,
+Soon as the spirit, of rebellious war,
+Is scourg'd into obedience. Why then, ye Gods,
+This inward gnawing, and remorse of thought,
+For perfidy, and breach of promises!
+Why should the spouse, or weeping infant babe,
+Or meek ey'd virgin, with her sallow cheek,
+The rose by famine, wither'd out of it;
+Or why the father, or his youthful son,
+By me detain'd, from all their relatives,
+And, in low dungeons, and, in Gaols chain'd down,
+Affect my spirit, when the mighty cause,
+Of _George_ and _Britain_, is endangered?
+For nobly struggling, in the cause of kings,
+We claim the high, the just prerogative,
+To rule mankind, and with an iron rod,
+Exact submission, due, tho' absolute.
+What tho' they style me, villain, murderer,
+And imprecate from Heaven, dire thunderbolts,
+To crush my purposes--Was that a gun,
+Which thunders o'er the wave?--Or is it guilt,
+That plays the coward, with my trembling heart,
+And cools the blood, with frightful images.
+O guilt, thy blackness, hovers on the mind,
+Nor can the morning dissipate thy shades.
+Yon ruddy morn, which over BUNKERS-HILL,
+Advancing slowly, blushes to the bay,
+And tips with gold the spires of CHARLES-TOWN.
+
+_Enter BURGOYNE._
+
+  The rebel foe, grown yet more insolent,
+By that small loss, or rout, at LEXINGTON,
+Prevent our purpose and the night by-past,
+Have push'd intrenchments, and some flimsy works,
+With rude achievement, on the rocky brow,
+Of that tall hill. A ship-boy, with the day,
+From the tall mast-head, of the Admiral,
+Descry'd their aim, and gave the swift alarm.
+Our glasses mark, but one small regiment there,
+Yet, ev'ry hour we languish in delay,
+Inspires fresh hope, and fills their pig'my souls,
+With thoughts of holding it. You hear the sound
+Of spades and pick-axes, upon the hill,
+Incessant, pounding, like old Vulcan's forge,
+Urg'd by the Cyclops.
+
+_Enter HOWE._
+
+  To your alarm posts, officers; come, gallant souls,
+Let's out, and drive them from that eminence,
+On which the foe, doth earth himself.
+I relish not, such haughty neighbourhood.
+Give orders, swiftly, to the Admiral,
+That some stout ship heave up the narrow bay,
+And pour indignant, from the full-tide wave,
+Fierce cannonade, across the isthmus point,
+That no assistance may be brought to them.
+If but seven hundred, we can treat with them.
+Yes, strew the hill, with death, and carcasses,
+And offer up, this band, a hecatomb,
+To _Britain's_ glory, and the cause of kings.
+
+                                        [_Exeunt BURGOYNE and HOWE._
+
+GAGE [_solus_].
+
+  May Heaven protect us, from their rage, I say,
+When but a boy, I dream'd of death in bed,
+And ever since that time, I hated things
+Which put him, like a pair of spectacles,
+Before my eyes. The thought lies deep in fate,
+Nor can a mortal see the bottom of it.
+'Tis here--'Tis there--I could philosophize--
+Eternity, is like a winding sheet--
+The seven commandments like--I think there's seven--
+I scratch my head--but yet in vain I scratch--
+Oh Bute, and Dartmouth, knew ye what I feel,
+You sure would pity an old drinking man,
+That has more heart-ake, than philosophy.                     [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _HOWE with the British Army._
+
+HOWE.
+
+  The day at length, propitious shews itself,
+And with full beams of majesty, the sun,
+Hath bless'd its fair nativity; when Heaven,
+Brave soldiers, and the cause of kings,
+Calls on the spirit of your loyalty,
+To chastise this rebellion, and tread down,
+Such foul ingratitude--such monstrous shape,
+Of horrid liberty, which spurns that love--
+That fond maternal tenderness of soul,
+Which on this dreary coast, first planted them:
+Restrain'd the rage, of murdering savages,
+Which, with fierce inroad, on their settlements,
+Made frequent war--struck down the arm of France,
+Just rais'd, to crush them, in their infancy:
+And since that time, have bade their cities grow,
+To marts of trade: call'd fair-ey'd commerce forth,
+To share dominion, on the distant wave,
+And visit every clime, and foreign shore.
+Yet this, brave soldiers, is the proud return,
+For the best blood of _England_, shed for them.
+Behold yon hill, where fell rebellion rears
+Her snake-stream'd ensign, and would seem to brave
+With scarce seven hundred, this sea-bounded Camp,
+Where may be counted, full ten thousand men,
+That in the war with France so late, acquir'd
+Loud fame, and shook the other continent.
+Come on, brave soldiers, seize your gleaming arms,
+And let this day, in after times be held,
+As Minden famous, and each hostile field,
+Where _British_ valour shone victorious.
+The time moves slow, which enviously detains,
+Our just resentment from these traitors' heads.
+Their richest farms, and cultur'd settlements,
+By winding river, or extensive bay,
+Shall be your first reward. Our noble king,
+As things confiscate, holds their property,
+And in rich measure, will bestow on you,
+Who face the frowns, and labour of this day.
+He that outlives this battle, shall ascend,
+In titled honour, to the height of state,
+Dukedoms, and baronies, midst these our foes,
+In tributary vassalage, kept down,
+Shall be your fair inheritance. Come on,
+Beat up th' heroic sound of war. The word
+Is, _George_ our sov'reign, and _Britannia's_ arms.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_WARREN with the American Army._
+
+WARREN.
+
+  To arms, brave countrymen, for see the foe
+Comes forth to battle, and would seem to try,
+Once more, their fortune in decisive war.
+Three thousand, 'gainst seven hundred, rang'd this day,
+Shall give the world, an ample specimen,
+What strength, and noble confidence, the sound
+Of Liberty inspires. That Liberty,
+Which, not the thunder of Bellona's voice,
+With fleets, and armies, from the _British_ Shore,
+Shall wrest from us. Our noble ancestors,
+Out-brav'd the tempests, of the hoary deep,
+And on these hills, uncultivate, and wild,
+Sought an asylum, from despotic sway;
+A short asylum, for that envious power,
+With persecution dire, still follows us.
+At first, they deem'd our charters forfeited,
+Next, our just rights, in government, abridg'd.
+Then, thrust in viceroys, and bashaws, to rule,
+With lawless sovereignty. Now added force,
+Of standing armies, to secure their sway.
+Much have we suffer'd from the licens'd rage,
+Of brutal soldiery, in each fair town.
+Remember March, brave countrymen, that day
+When BOSTON'S streets ran blood. Think on that day,
+And let the memory, to revenge, stir up,
+The temper of your souls. There might we still,
+On terms precarious, and disdainful liv'd,
+With daughters ravished, and butcher'd sons,
+But Heaven forbade the thought. These are the men,
+Who in firm phalanx, threaten us with war,
+And aim this day, to fix forever down,
+The galling chains, which tyranny has forg'd for us,
+These count our lands and settlements their own,
+And in their intercepted letters, speak,
+Of farms, and tenements, secured for friends,
+Which, if they gain, brave soldiers, let with blood,
+The purchase, be seal'd down. Let every arm,
+This day be active, in fair freedom's cause,
+And shower down, from the hill, like Heav'n in wrath,
+Full store of lightning, and fierce iron hail,
+To blast the adversary. Let this ground,
+Like burning AEtna or Vesuvius top,
+Be wrapt in flame--The word is, LIBERTY,
+And Heaven smile on us, in so just a cause.
+
+
+SCENE II. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+GARDINER [_leading up his men to the engagement_].
+
+  Fear not, brave soldiers, tho' their infantry,
+In deep array, so far out-numbers us.
+The justness of our cause, will brace each arm,
+And steel the soul, with fortitude; while they,
+Whose guilt hangs trembling, on their consciences,
+Must fail in battle, and receive that death,
+Which, in high vengeance, we prepare for them.
+Let then each spirit, to the height, would up,
+Shew noble vigour, and full force this day.
+For on the merit, of our swords, is plac'd,
+The virgin honour, and true character,
+Of this whole Continent: and one short hour,
+May give complexion, to the whole event,
+Fixing the judgment whether as base slaves,
+We serve these masters, or more nobly live,
+Free as the breeze, that on the hill-top, plays,
+With these sweet fields, and tenements, our own.
+O fellow soldiers, let this battle speak,
+Dire disappointment, to the insulting foe,
+Who claim our fair possessions, and set down,
+These cultur'd-farms, and bowry-hills, and plains,
+As the rich prize, of certain victory.
+Shall we, the sons of MASSACHUSETTS-BAY,
+NEW HAMPSHIRE, and CONNECTICUT; shall we
+Fall back, dishonour'd, from our native plains,
+Mix with the savages, and roam for food,
+On western mountains, or the desert shores,
+Of Canada's cold lakes? or state more vile,
+Sit down, in humble vassalage, content
+To till the ground for these proud conquerors?
+No, fellow soldiers, let us rise this day,
+Emancipate, from such ignoble choice.
+And should the battle ravish our sweet lives,
+Late time shall give, an ample monument,
+And bid her worthies, emulate our fame.
+
+
+SCENE III. _Boston._
+
+_The British Army being repuls'd, SHERWIN is dispatch'd to GENERAL
+  GAGE, for assistance._
+
+_SHERWIN, GAGE, BURGOYNE, and CLINTON._
+
+SHERWIN.
+
+  Our men advancing, have receiv'd dire loss,
+In this encounter, and the case demands,
+In swift crisis, of extremity,
+A thousand men to reinforce the war.
+
+GAGE.
+
+  Do as you please, Burgoyne, in this affair,
+I'll hide myself in some deep vault beneath.
+
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+BURGOYNE.
+
+  'Tis yours, brave Clinton, to command, these men.
+Embark them speedily. I see our troops,
+Stand on the margin of the ebbing flood
+(The flood affrighted, at the scene it views),
+And fear, once more, to climb the desp'rate hill,
+Whence the bold rebel, show'rs destruction down.            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+WARREN.
+
+_Mortally wounded, falling on his right knee, covering his breast with
+  his right hand, and supporting himself with his firelock in his
+  left._
+
+  A deadly ball hath limited my life,
+And now to God, I offer up my soul.
+But O my Countrymen, let not the cause,
+The sacred cause of liberty, with me
+Faint or expire. By the last parting breath,
+And blood of this your fellow soldier slain,
+Be now adjur'd, never to yield the right,
+The grand deposit of all-giving Heaven,
+To man's free nature, that he rule himself.
+With these rude Britons, wage life-scorning war,
+Till they admit it, and like hell fall off,
+With ebbing billows, from this troubl'd coast,
+Where but for them firm Concord, and true love,
+Should individual, hold their court and reign.
+Th' infernal engin'ry of state, resist
+To death, that unborn times may be secure,
+And while men flourish in the peace you win,
+Write each fair name with worthies of the earth.
+Weep not your Gen'ral, who is snatch'd this day,
+From the embraces of a family,
+Five virgin daughters young, and unendow'd,
+Now with the foe left lone and fatherless.
+Weep not for him who first espous'd the cause
+And risking life have met the enemy,
+In fatal opposition--But rejoice--
+For now I go to mingle with the dead,
+Great Brutus, Hampden, Sidney, and the rest,
+Of old or modern memory, who liv'd,
+A mound to tyrants, and strong hedge to kings,
+Bounding the inundation of their rage,
+Against the happiness and peace of man.
+I see these heroes where they walk serene,
+By crystal currents, on the vale of Heaven,
+High in full converse of immortal acts,
+Achiev'd for truth and innocence on earth.
+Mean time the harmony and thrilling sound
+Of mellow lutes, sweet viols, and guitars,
+Dwell on the soul and ravish ev'ry nerve.
+Anon the murmur of the tight-brac'd drum,
+With finely varied fifes to martial airs,
+Wind up the spirit to the mighty proof
+Of siege and battle, and attempt in arms.
+Illustrious group! They beckon me along,
+To ray my visage with immortal light,
+And bind the amarinth around my brow.
+I come, I come, ye first-born of true fame.
+Fight on, my countrymen, be FREE, be FREE.
+
+
+SCENE V. _Charles-town._
+
+_The reinforcement landed, and orders given to burn Charles-town, that
+  they may march up more securely under the smoke. GENERAL HOWE rallies
+  his repuls'd and broken troops._
+
+HOWE.
+
+  Curse on the fortune, of _Britannia's_ arms,
+That plays the jilt with us. Shall these few men
+Beat back the flower, and best half of our troops,
+While on our side, so many ships of war,
+And floating batt'ries, from the mystic tide,
+Shake all the hill, and sweep its ridgy top?
+O Gods! no time can blot its memory out.
+We've men enough, upon the field today,
+To bury, this small handful, with the dust
+Our march excites--back to the charge--close ranks,
+And drive these wizards from th' enchanted ground.
+The reinforcement, which bold Clinton heads,
+Gives such superiority of strength,
+That let each man of us but cast a stone,
+We cover this small hill, with these few foes,
+And over head, erect a pyramid,
+The smoke, you see, enwraps us in its shade,
+On, then, my countrymen, and try once more,
+To change the fortune, of the inglorious day.
+
+
+SCENE VI. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+GARDINER [_to the American Army_].
+
+  You see, brave soldiers, how an evil cause,
+A cause of slavery, and civil death,
+Unmans the spirit, and strikes down the soul.
+The gallant _Englishman_, whose fame in arms,
+Through every clime, shakes terribly the globe,
+Is found this day, shorn of his wonted strength,
+Repuls'd, and driven from the flaming hill.
+Warren is fallen, on fair honour's bed,
+Pierc'd in the breast, with ev'ry wound before.
+'Tis ours, now tenfold, to avenge his death,
+And offer up, a reg'ment of the foe,
+Achilles-like, upon the Hero's tomb.
+See, reinforc'd they face us yet again,
+And onward move in phalanx to the war.
+O noble spirits, let this bold attack,
+Be bloody to their host. GOD is our Aid,
+Give then full scope, to just revenge this day.
+
+
+SCENE VII. _The Bay-Shore._
+
+_The British Army once more repuls'd, HOWE again rallies his flying
+  troops._
+
+HOWE.
+
+  But that so many mouths can witness it,
+I would deny myself an _Englishman_,
+And swear this day, that with such cowardice,
+No kindred, or alliance, has my birth.
+O base degen'rate souls, whose ancestors,
+At Cressy, Poitiers, and at Agincourt,
+With tenfold numbers, combated, and pluck'd
+The budding laurels, from the brows of France.
+Back to the charge, once more, and rather die,
+Burn'd up, and wither'd on this bloody hill,
+Than live the blemish of your Country's fame,
+With everlasting infamy, oppress'd.
+Their ammunition, as you hear, is spent,
+So that unless their looks, and visages,
+Like fierce-ey'd Basilisks, can strike you dead;
+Return, and rescue yet, sweet Countrymen,
+Some share of honour, on this hapless day.
+Let some brave officers stand on the rear,
+And with the small sword, and sharp bayonet,
+Drive on each coward that attempts to lag,
+That thus, sure death may find the villain out,
+With more dread certainty, than him who moves,
+Full in the van, to meet the wrathful foe.
+
+
+SCENE VIII. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_GARDINER, desperately wounded and borne from the field by two
+  soldiers._
+
+GARDINER.
+
+  A musket-ball, death-wing'd, hath pierc'd my groin,
+And widely op'd the swift curr'nt of my veins.
+Bear me then, Soldiers, to that hollow space,
+A little hence, just in the hill's decline.
+A surgeon there may stop the gushing wound,
+And gain a short respite to life, that yet
+I may return, and fight one half hour more.
+Then, shall I die in peace, and to my GOD,
+Surrender up, the spirit, which He gave.
+
+
+SCENE IX.
+
+PUTNAM [_to the American Army_].
+
+  Swift-rising fame, on early wing, mounts up,
+To the convexity of bending Heaven,
+And writes each name, who fought with us this day,
+In fairest character, amidst the stars.
+The world shall read it, and still talk of us,
+Who, far out-number'd, twice drove back the foe,
+With carnage horrid, murm'ring to their ships.
+The Ghost of Warren says, enough--I see
+One thousand veterans, mingled with the dust.
+Now, for our sacred honour, and the wound,
+Which Gard'ner feels, once more we charge--once more,
+Dear friends, and fence the obscur'd hill
+With hecatombs of slain. Let every piece
+Flash, like the fierce-consuming fire of Heaven,
+And make the smoke, in which they wrap themselves,
+"A darkness visible."--Now once again,
+Receive the battle, as a shore of rock
+The ocean wave. And if at last we yield,
+Leave many a death, amidst their hollow ranks,
+To damp the measure, of their dear-bought joy.
+
+
+SCENE X _and Last_. _Bunkers-Hill._
+
+_The American Army overpower'd by numbers are obliged to retreat._
+
+_Enter HOWE, PIGOT, and CLINTON with the British Army._
+
+RICHARDSON [_a young officer, on the parapet_].
+
+  The day is ours, huzza, the day is ours,
+This last attack has forc'd them to retreat.
+
+CLINTON.
+
+  'Tis true, full victory declares for us,
+But we have dearly, dearly purchas'd it.
+Full fifteen hundred of our men lie dead,
+Who, with their officers, do swell the list
+Of this day's carnage--On the well-fought hill,
+Whole ranks cut down, lie struggling with their wounds,
+Or close their bright eyes, in the shades of night.
+No wonder! such incessant musketry,
+And fire of Cannon, from the hill-top pour'd,
+Seem'd not the agency of mortal men,
+But Heaven itself, with snares, and vengeance arm'd,
+T' oppose our gaining it. E'en when was spent
+Their ammunition, and fierce Warren slain,
+Huge stones were hurled from the rocky brow,
+And war renew'd, by these inveterate;
+Till Gard'ner wounded, the left wing gave way,
+And with their shatter'd infantry, the whole,
+Drawn off by Putnam, to the causeway fled,
+When from the ships, and batt'ries on the wave
+They met deep loss, and strew'd the narrow bridge,
+With lifeless carcases. Oh, such a day,
+Since Sodom and Gomorrah sunk in flames,
+Hath not been heard of by the ear of man,
+Nor hath an eye beheld its parallel.
+
+LORD PIGOT.
+
+  The day is ours, but with heart-piercing loss,
+Of soldiers slain, and gallant officers.
+Old Abercrombie, on the field lies dead.
+Pitcairn and Sherwin, in sore battle slain.
+The gallant reg'ment of Welsh fusileers,
+To seventeen privates, is this day reduc'd.
+The grenadiers stand thinly on the hill,
+Like the tall fir-trees on the blasted heath,
+Scorch'd by the autumnal burnings, which have rush'd,
+With wasting fire fierce through its leafy groves.
+Should ev'ry hill by the rebellious foe,
+So well defended, cost thus dear to us,
+Not the united forces of the world,
+Could master them, and the proud rage subdue
+Of these AMERICANS.--
+
+HOWE.
+
+  E'en in an enemy I honour worth,
+And valour eminent. The vanquish'd foe,
+In feats of prowess shew their ancestry,
+And speak their birth legitimate;
+The sons of Britons, with the genuine flame,
+Of British heat, and valour in their veins.
+What pity 'tis, such excellence of mind,
+Should spend itself, in the fantastic cause,
+Of wild-fire liberty.--Warren is dead,
+And lies unburied, on the smoky hill;
+But with rich honours he shall be inhum'd,
+To teach our soldiery, how much we love,
+E'en in a foe, true worth and noble fortitude.
+Come then, brave soldiers, and take up the dead,
+Majors, and Col'nels, which are this day slain,
+And noble Captains of sweet life bereft.
+Fair flowers shall grow upon their grassy tombs,
+And fame in tears shall tell their tragedy,
+To many a widow and soft weeping maid,
+Or parent woe-ful for an only son,
+Through mourning _Britain_, and _Hibernia's_ isle.
+
+_Enter BURGOYNE from Boston._
+
+  Oft have I read, in the historic page,
+And witnessed myself, high scenes in war:
+But this rude day, unparallel'd in time,
+Has no competitor--The gazing eye,
+Of many a soldier, from the chimney-tops,
+And spires of Boston, witnessed when Howe,
+With his full thousands, moving up the hill,
+Receiv'd the onset of the impetuous foe.
+The hill itself, like Ida's burning mount,
+When Jove came down, in terrors, to dismay
+The Grecian host, enshrouded in thick flames;
+And round its margin, to the ebbing wave,
+A town on fire, and rushing from its base,
+With ruin hideous, and combustion down.
+Mean time, deep thunder, from the hollow sides
+Of the artill'ry, on the hilltop hear'd,
+With roar of thunder, and loud mortars play'd,
+From the tall ships, and batt'ries on the wave,
+Bade yon blue ocean, and wide heaven resound.
+A scene like which, perhaps, no time shall know,
+Till Heav'n with final ruin fires the ball,
+Burns up the cities, and the works of men,
+And wraps the mountains in one gen'ral blaze.
+
+                                                            [_Exeunt._
+
+_The End._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+_Written by a Gentleman of the Army._
+
+
+_Supposed to be spoken, immediately after the Battle; by LIEUTENANT
+  COLONEL WEBB, Aide-de-camp to GENERAL PUTNAM._
+
+The field is theirs, but dearly was it bought,
+Thus long defended and severely fought.
+Now pale-fac'd death sits brooding o'er the strand,
+And views the carnage of his ruthless hand.
+But why my heart this deep unbidden sigh,
+Why steals the tear, soft trickling from the eye?
+Is FREEDOM master'd by our late defeat,
+Or HONOUR wounded by a brave retreat?
+'Tis nature dictates; and in pride's despite,
+I mourn my brethren slaughter'd in the fight.
+Th' insulting foe now revels o'er the ground,
+Yet flush'd with victory, they feel the wound.
+Embru'd in gore, they bleed from ev'ry part,
+And deep wounds rankle at _Britannia's_ heart.
+O fatal conquest! Speak thou crimson'd plain,
+Now press'd beneath the weight of hundreds slain!
+There heaps of _British_ youth promiscuous lie,
+Here, murder'd FREEMEN catch the wand'ring eye.
+Observe yon stripling bath'd in purple gore,
+He bleeds for FREEDOM on his native shore.
+His livid eyes in drear convulsions roll,
+While from his wounds escapes the flutt'ring soul,
+Breathless and naked on th' ensanguin'd plain,
+Midst friends and brothers, sons and fathers slain.
+No pitying hand his languid eyes to close,
+He breathes his last amidst insulting foes;
+His body plunder'd, massacred, abus'd;
+By Christians--Christian fun'ral rites refus'd--
+Thrown as a carrion in the public way,
+To Dogs, to Britons, and to Birds a prey.
+Enwrapt in sulph'rous flame and clouds of smoke,
+Brave Gard'ner sinks beneath the deadly stroke,
+And Warren bleeds to grace the bloody strife,
+And for his injur'd country gives his life.
+Yet while his mighty soul ascends the skies,
+On earth his blood for ten-fold vengeance cries.
+Great spirit rest--by Heaven it is decreed,
+Thy murd'ring tyrants by the sword shall bleed.
+E'en racks and gibbets would but consecrate,
+And death repeated be too kind a fate.
+The sword is drawn, in peace no more to rest,
+Till justice bathes it in some tyrant's breast.
+Honour my weapon with the glorious task,
+And let me stab, 'tis all the boon I ask.
+Kind pow'rs, beneath your all-protecting shield,
+I now unsheathe my sword, and take the field
+Sure of success, with this sweet comfort giv'n,
+Who fights for FREEDOM,--fights the cause of HEAV'N.
+
+
+
+
+AN ODE
+
+_on the Battle of BUNKERS-HILL._
+
+
+_Sung and Acted by a Soldier in a Military Habit, with his Firelock,
+&c._
+
+_In the Same Measure with a Sea Piece, Entitled the "Tempest."_
+
+    --Cease, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer--
+
+                  I.
+
+    You bold warriors, who resemble
+      Flames, upon the distant hill,
+    At whose view, the heroes tremble,
+      Fighting with unequal skill.
+    Loud-sounding drums now with hoarse murmurs,
+      Rouse the spirit up to war,
+    Fear not, fear not, tho' their numbers,
+      Much to ours, superior are.
+    Hear brave WARREN bold commanding,
+      "Gallant souls and vet'rans brave,
+    See the enemy just landing,
+      From the navy-cover'd wave.
+    Close the wings--advance the center--
+      Engineers point well your guns--
+    Clap the matches, let the rent air,
+      Bellow to _Britannia's_ sons."
+
+
+                  II.
+
+    Now think you see, three thousand moving,
+      Up the brow of BUNKERS-HILL,
+    Many a gallant vet'ran shoving,
+      Cowards on against their will.
+    The curling volumes all behind them,
+      Dusky clouds of smoke arise,
+    Our cannon-balls, brave boys shall find them,
+      At each shot a hero dies.
+    Once more WARREN midst this terror,
+      "Charge, brave soldiers, charge again,
+    Many an expert vet'ran warrior
+      Of the enemy is slain.
+    Level well your charged pieces,
+      In direction to the town;
+    They shake, they shake, their lightning ceases,
+      That shot brought six standards down."
+
+
+                  III.
+
+    Maids in virgin beauty blooming,
+      On _Britannia's_ sea-girt isle,
+    Say no more your swains are coming,
+      Or with songs the day beguile.
+    For sleeping sound in death's embraces,
+      On their clay-cold beds they lie,
+    Death, grim death, alas defaces,
+      Youth and pleasure which must die.
+    "March the right wing, GARD'NER, yonder,
+      Take th' assailing foe in flank,
+    The hero's spirit lives in thunder,
+      Close there, sergeants, close that rank.
+    The conflict now doth loudly call on
+      Highest proof of martial skill,
+    Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on,
+      The slipp'ry brow of BUNKERS-HILL."
+
+
+                  IV.
+
+    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.
+
+
+
+
+A
+MILITARY SONG
+by the
+ARMY:
+
+_On GENERAL WASHINGTON'S victorious entry into
+the Town of Boston._
+
+
+                  I.
+
+    Sons of valour, taste the glories,
+      Of Celestial LIBERTY,
+    Sing a Triumph o'er the Tories
+      Let the pulse of joy beat high.
+
+
+                  II.
+
+    Heaven this day hath foil'd the many
+      Fallacies of GEORGE their King,
+    Let the echo reach Britan'y,
+      Bid her mountain summits ring.
+
+
+                  III.
+
+    See yon Navy swell the bosom,
+      Of the late enraged sea,
+    Where e'er they go we shall oppose them,
+      Sons of valour must be free.
+
+
+                  IV.
+
+    Should they touch at fair RHODE-ISLAND,
+      There to combat with the brave,
+    Driven, from each hill, and high-land,
+      They shall plough the purple wave.
+
+
+                  V.
+
+    Should they thence, to fair VIRGIN'Y
+      Bend a squadron to DUNMORE,
+    Still with fear and ignominy,
+      They shall quit the hostile shore.
+
+
+                  VI.
+
+    To CAROLINA or to GEORG'Y,
+      Should they next advance their fame,
+    This land of heroes shall disgorge the
+      Sons of tyranny and shame.
+
+
+                  VII.
+
+    Let them rove to climes far distant,
+      Situate under Arctic skies,
+    Call on Hessian troops assistant,
+      And the Savages to rise.
+
+
+                  VIII.
+
+    Boast of wild brigades from Russia,
+      To fix down the galling chain,
+    Canada and Nova Scotia,
+      Shall discharge these hordes again.
+
+
+                  IX.
+
+    In NEW-YORK State rejoin'd by CLINTON,
+      Should their standards mock the air,
+    Many a surgeon shall put lint on
+      Wounds of death received there.
+
+
+                  X.
+
+    War, fierce war, shall break their forces,
+      Nerves of tory men shall fail,
+    Seeing HOWE with alter'd courses,
+      Bending to the western gale.
+
+
+                  XI.
+
+    Thus, from every bay of ocean,
+      Flying back, with sails unfurl'd,
+    Tost with ever-troubl'd motion,
+      They shall quit this smiling world.
+
+
+                  XII.
+
+    Like Satan banished from HEAVEN,
+      Never see the smiling shore,
+    From this land so happy, driven,
+      Never stain its bosom more.
+
+               _The End._
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
+
+General: The variable hyphenation of Charles(-)town, hill(-)top,
+Free(-)men, ten(-)fold, thunder(-)bolts and to(-)day in the original has
+been preserved in this transcription.
+
+On page 241, Ioor has been capitalised in line with other playwrights.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Bunkers-Hill, by
+Hugh Henry Brackenridge
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