  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, 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, 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, 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. |
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