Let some brave officers stand on the rear, 20 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 And widely op'd the swift curr'nt of my veins. A surgeon there may stop the gushing wound 5 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 The world shall read it and still talk of us 5 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 Which Gard'ner feels, once more we charge! once more, With hecatombs of slain! Let every piece Flash like the fierce-consuming fire of Heaven, And make the smoke in which they wrap themselves 15 "A darkness visible." Now once again Receive the battle, as a shore of rock The ocean wave! And if at last we yield, SCENE X AND LAST 20 Bunkers-Hill. The American Army, overpower'd by numbers, are obliged Enter Howe, Pigot, and Clinton with the British Army. Richardson, a young Officer, on the Parapet. to retreat. The day is ours! huzza, the day is ours! This last attack has forc'd them to retreat. Clinton. 'T is 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. 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 "Till, GARD'NER wounded, the left wing gave way, When from the ships and batt'ries on the wave They met deep loss and strew'd the narrow bridge With lifeless carcases. O such a day, Since Sodom and Gomorrah sunk in flames, Hath not been heard of by the ear of man, 5 ΙΟ 15 20 25 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, 309 Like the tall fir-trees on the blasted heath, Scorch'd by the autumnal burnings which have rush'd 35 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 40 Howe. E'en in an enemy I honour worth 45 The sons of Britons, with the genuine flame E'en in a foe true worth and noble fortitude. Majors and Col'nels which are this day slain, And noble Captains of sweet live 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 60 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, And spires of Boston witnessed when Howe, The Grecian host, enshrowded in thick flames; And round its margin, to the ebbing wave, JOHN TRUMBULL THE PROGRESS OF DULNESS FROM PART I, OR THE ADVENTURES OF TOM BRAINLESS "Our Tom has grown a sturdy boy: His progress fills my heart with joy; 5 His parents held a consultation; If on their couch or round their fire, I need not tell nor you enquire. The point's agreed; the boy well pleased, 20 From country cares and labor eased: No more to rise by break of day So to the priest in form he goes, 25 30 35 |