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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.