Deep groan the shrines of all her guardian gods,
Sad Pelion shakes, divine Olympus nods,
Shockt Ossa sheds his hundred hills of snow,
And Tempe swells her murmuring brook below;
Wild in her starts of rage the Pythian shrieks,
Dodona’s Oak the pangs of nature speaks,
Eleusis quakes through all her mystic caves,
And black Trophonius gapes a thousand graves.
But soon the freeborn Greeks to vengeance rise,
Brave Sparta springs where first the danger lies,
Her self-devoted Band, in one steel’d mass,
Plunge in the gorge of death and choke the pass.
Athenian youths the unwieldy war to meet,
Couch the stiff lance or mount the well arm’d fleet;
They sweep the encumber’d seas of their vast load
And fat their fields with lakes of Asian blood.
So leapt our youths to meet the invading hordes,
Fame fired their courage, freedom edged their swords.
Gates in their van, on high-hill’d Bemus rose,
Waved his blue steel and dared the headlong foes;
Undaunted Lincoln, laboring on his right,
Urged every arm, and gave them hearts to fight;
Starke, at the dexter flank, the onset claims,
Indignant Herkimer the left inflames;
He bounds exulting to commence the strife
And buy the victory with his barter’d life.
And why sweet Minstrel, from the harp of fame
Withhold so long that once resounding name?
The chief who steering by the boreal star
O’er wild Canadia led our infant war,
In desperate straits superior powers display’d,
Burgoyne’s dread scourge, Montgomery’s ablest aid;
Ridgefield and Compo saw his valorous might
With ill arm’d swains put veteran troops to flight.
Though treason foul hath since absorb’d his soul,
Bade waves of dark oblivion round him roll,
Sunk his proud heart abhorrent and abhorr’d,
Effaced his memory and defiled his sword;
Yet then untarnisht roll’d his conquering car;
Then famed and foremost in the ranks of war
Brave Arnold trod; high valor warm’d his breast,
And beams of glory play’d around his crest.
Here toils the chief; whole armies from his eye
Resume their souls and swift to combat fly.
Camp’d on a hundred hills, and trencht in form,
Burgoyne’s long legions view the gathering storm;
Uncounted nations round their general stand,
And wait the signal from his guiding hand.
Canadia crowds her Gallic colons there,
Ontario’s yelling tribes torment the air,
Wild Huron sends his lurking hordes from far,
Insidious Mohawk swells the woodland war;
Scalpers and ax-men rush from Erie’s shore,
And Iroquois augments the war whoop roar;
While all his ancient troops his train supply,
Half Europe’s banners waving through the sky;
Deep squadron’d horse support his endless flanks,
And parkt artillery frowns behind the ranks.
Flusht with the conquest of a thousand fields
And rich with spoils that all the region yields,
They burn with zeal to close the long campaign
And crush Columbia on this final plain.
His fellow chiefs inhale the hero’s flame,
Nerves of his arm and partners in his fame:
Phillips, with treasured thunders poised and wheel’d
In brazen tubes, prepares to rake the field;
The trench-tops darken with the sable rows,
And tipt with fire the waving match-rope glows.
There gallant Reidesel in German guise,
And Specht and Breyman prompt for action rise;
His savage hordes the murderous Johnson41 leads,
Files through the woods and treads the tangled weeds,
Shuns open combat, teaches where to run,
Skulk, couch the ambush, aim the hunter’s gun,
Whirl the sly tomahawk, the war whoop sing,
Divide the spoil and pack the scalps they bring.
Frazer in quest of glory seeks the field;—
False glare of glory, what hast thou to yield?
How long, deluding phantom, wilt thou blind,
Mislead, debase, unhumanize mankind?
Bid the bold youth, his headlong sword who draws,
Heed not the object nor inquire the cause,
But seek, adventuring like an errant knight,
Wars not his own, gratuitous in fight,
Greet the gored field, then plunging through the fire,
Mow down his men, with stupid pride expire,
Shed from his closing eyes the finish’d flame
And ask, for all his crimes, a deathless name?
And when shall solid glory pure and bright
Alone inspire us and our deeds requite?
When shall the applause of men their chiefs pursue
In just proportion to the good they do,
On virtue’s base erect the shrine of fame,
Define her empire and her code proclaim?
Unhappy Frazer! little hast thou weigh’d
The crirneful cause thy valor comes to aid.
Far from thy native land, thy sire, thy wife,
Love’s lisping race that cling about thy life,
Thy soul beats high, thy thoughts expanding roam
On battles past and laurels yet to come:
Alas, what laurels? where the lasting gain?
A pompous funeral on a desert plain!
The cannon’s roar, the muffled drums proclaim,
In one short blast, thy momentary fame;
And some war minister per-hazard reads
In what far field the tool of placemen bleeds.
Brave Heartly strode in youth’s o’erweening pride;
Housed in the camp he left his blooming bride,
The sweet Lucinda; whom her sire from far,
On steeds high bounding o’er the waste of war,
Had guided through the lines and hither led,
That fateful morn, the plighted chief to wed.
He deem’d, deluded sire! the contest o’er,
That routed rebels dared the fight no more;
And came to mingle, as the tumult ceased,
The victor’s triumph with the nuptial feast.
They reacht his tent; when now with loud alarms
The morn burst forth and roused the camp to arms;
Conflicting passions seized the lover’s breast,
Bright honor call’d and bright Lucinda prest:
And wilt thou leave me for that clangorous call?
Traced I these deserts but to see thee fall?
I know thy valorous heart, thy zeal that speeds
Where dangers press and boldest battle bleeds.
My father said blest Hymen here should join
With sacred Love to make Lucinda thine;
But other union these dire drums foredoom,
The dark dead union of the eternal tomb.
On yonder plain, soon sheeted o’er with blood,
Our nuptial couch shall prove a crimson clod;
For there this night thy livid corse must lie,
I’ll seek it there, and on that bosom die.
Yet go; ’tis duty calls; but o’er thy head
Let this white plume its floating foliage spread;
That from the rampart, through the troubled air,
These eyes may trace thee toiling in the war.
She fixt the feather on his crest above,
Bound with the mystic knot, the knot of love;
He parted silent, but in silent prayer,
Bade Love and Hymen guard the timorous fair.
Where Saratoga show’d her champaign side,
That Hudson bathed with still untainted tide,
The opposing pickets pusht their scouting files,
Wheel’d, skirmisht, halted, practised all their wiles;
Each to mislead, insnare, exhaust their foes
And court the conquest ere the armies close.
Now roll like winged storms the solid
