Argument Present Situation of Affairs in
North-America.—Address to the Deity.— Unhappy Situation of New-England,
in particular.—The first Emigrations of the Colonists from
Europe.—Cruelties of the Indian Natives.— All our Hopes of future Safety
depend secondarily on our present Resolution and Activity.—Impossible
for British Soldiers to join heartily for the purpose of enslaving
us.—Present happy Unanimity among the Colonies.—The Baseness of
pensioned Writers against their native Country.—General Gage’s late
Proclamation.—The Odium consequent upon his Undertaking his present
Office.—Character of a weak Monarch.— Popery established in
Canada.—General Washington.—The Honourable Continental
Congress.—Hancock.—Adams.—Invitation to Foreigners to retire hither from
their respective Slavish Regions.—Bravery of the New-England Forces in
the late Engagements.—The determined Resolution of the Colonies to be
free.—The future Happiness of America if she surmounts the present
Difficulties.
Once more Bellona, forc’d upon the stage,
Inspires new fury, and awakes her rage, From North to South her
thun’dring trumpet spreads Tumults, and war and death, and daring deeds.
What breast but kindles at the martial sound? What heart but bleeds to
feel its country’s wound? For thee, blest freedom, to protect thy sway,
We rush undaunted to the bloody fray; For thee, each province arms its
vig’rous host, Content to die, e’er freedom shall be lost. Kind watchful
power, on whose supreme command The fate of monarchs, empires, worlds
depend, Grant, in a cause thy wisdom must approve, Undaunted valour
kindled from above, Let not our souls descend to dastard fear, Be
valour, prudence both united here, Now as of old thy mighty arm display;
Relieve the opprest, and saving power convey. ‘Tis done, and see th’
omnipotent befriends, The sword of Gideon, and of God descends. Ah, see
with grief fair Massachusetts’ plains, The seat of war, and death’s
terrific scenes; Where darling peace with smiling aspect stood, Lo! the
grim soldier stalks in quest of blood: What madness, heaven, has made
Britannia frown? Who plans our schemes to pull Columbia down? See Boston
groan beneath the strong blockade, Her freedom vanish’d, and destroy’d
her trade; Injur’d, opprest, no tyrant could exceed The cruel vengeance
of so base a deed. New Albion’s sons whom honest freedom moves, (My
heart admires them, and my verse approves), Tir’d of oppression in a
Stuart’s reign, A Popish faction, ministerial train; Bravely resolv’d to
leave their native shore And some new world, they knew not where,
explore, Far in the West, beyond where Poets said, The Sun retir’d, and
Cynthia went to bed. Few then had seen the scarce discover’d Bourne,
From whence like death yet fewer did return: Dire truths from thence the
wand’ring sailor brought, Enlarg’d by terror, and the power of thought,
With all the forms that pict’ring fancy gives, With all the dread that
in idea lives; Fierce Cannibals that sought the blood of man, Vast cruel
tribes that through the desart ran, Giants whose height transcends the
tow’ring oak, Brutes with whose screams the trembling forest shook,— All
these and more they held no cause of fear, Since naught but slavery,
dreadful could appear. Ah, see the day, distressful to the view, Wives,
husbands, fathers, bid a long adieu. Dear native land, how heav’d the
heavy sigh, When thy last mountains vanish’d on the eye; Then their
frail barks, just enter’d on the sea, Pursu’d the long, uncomfortable
way: But pitying heav’n the just design surveys, Sends prosp’rous gales,
and wafts them o’er the seas. Behold the shore; no rising cities there,
To hail them welcome from the sea appear, In the wild woods the exil’d
host were spread, The heavens their covering, and the earth their bed:
What expectations but a life of woe? Unnumber’d myriads of the savage
foe, Whose brutal fury rais’d, at once might sweep The adventurers all
to death’s destructive sleep; Yet ‘midst this scene of horror and
despair, Stout industry began his office here, Made forests bend beneath
his sturdy stroke, Made oxen groan beneath the sweaty yoke, Till half
the desart smil’d and look’d as gay As northern gardens in the bloom of
May. But ah, review the sorrows interwove, How thye fierce native with
the stranger strove;— So heaven’s bright lamp, the all-reviving sun,
Just as his flaming journey is begun, Mists, fogs and vapours, sprung
from damps of night, Mount up and strive to dim the approach of light;
But he in triumph darts his piercing ray, Scatters their forces and
pursues his way. Oft when the husband did his labour leave To meet his
little family at eve, Stretch’d in their blood he saw each well known
face, His dear companion and his youthful race; Perhaps the scalp with
barbarous fury torn, The visage mangled, and the babe unborn Ripp’d from
its dark abode, to view the sun, Ere nature finish’d half she had
begun. And should we now when spread thro’ ev’ry shore, Submit to that
our fathers shunn’d before? Should we, just heaven, our blood and labour
spent, Be slaves and minions to a parliament? Perish the thought, nor
may one wretch remain, Who dares not fight and in our cause be slain;
The cause of freedom daunts the hireling foe, And gives each Sampson’s
strength toward the blow, And each, like him whom fear nor force
confines, Destroys a thousand modern Philistines. Who fights to take our
liberty away, Dead-hearted fights and falls an easy prey; The cause,
the cause, most cruel to enslave, Disheartens thousands, and unmans the
brave: Who could have thought that Britons bore a heart, Or British
troops to act so base a part? Britons of old renown’d, can they descend
T’ enslave their brethren in a foreign land? What oath, what oath,
inform us if you can, Binds them to act below the worth of man? Can they
whom half the world admires, can they Be advocates for vile despotic
sway? Shall they, to every shore and clime renown’d, Enforce those acts
that tyranny did found? Yet sure if this be their resolv’d design,
Conquer they shall where’er the sun doth shine; No expedition prov’d
unhappy yet, Can we Havanna’s bloody siege forget, Where British cannon
the strong fortress tore, And wing’d whole legions to its infernal
shore. Or does the voice of fame so soon forego Gibraltar’s action, and
the vanquish’d foe, Where art and nature both at once combin’d To baffle
all our hardy troops design’d?— Yet there Britannia’s arms successful
sped, While haughty Spaniards trembled, felt and fled. So say the
pensioned fools of slavery, So say our traitors, but so say not I—(
(Tories or traitors, call them what you choose, Tories are rogues, and
traitors imps broke loose). But know, ye few, the scandal of our land,
On whom returns the blood that we expend, Those troops whose fears are
told on every shore, Here lose their spirit and are brave no more; When
armies fight to gain some cruel cause, Establish tyrants or destructive
laws, True courage scorns to inspire the hateful crew, Recall past fame,
or spur them on to new; Dark boding thoughts the heavy soul possess,
And ancient valour turns to cowardice. Dark was the prospect, gloomy was
the scene, When traitors join’d to break our union chain: But soon, by
heaven inspir’d, arose the cry, Freedom or death, unite, unite or die.
Now far and wide a manly spirit reigns, From Canada to Georgia’s sun
burnt plains; Few now insult with falsehood’s shameless pen, Monsters
from Tophet, driv’n in shapes of men: Few pension’d scribblers left the
daring head, Some have turn’d lunatics and some have fled— Some, late
converted, scarce their pensions hold, And from mere force disdain the
charms of gold. What deep offence has fir’d a monarch’s rage, What
moonstruck madness seized the brain of Gage? Laughs not the soul, when
an imprison’d few Affect to pardon those they can’t subdue? Tho’ twice
repuls’d and hemm’d up to their stations, Yet issue pardons, oaths, and
proclamations, As if at sea some desperate madman crew Should threat the
tempest with what they could do, And like proud Xerxes lash the angry
waves, At the same instant that they find their graves. But not the
pomps and favours of a crown, A nation’s anger, or a statesman’s frown,
Could draw the virtuous man from virtue’s way, To chain by force what
treach’ry can’t betray. Virtue disdains to own tyrannic laws, Takes part
with freedom, and assumes its cause; No part had she, her fiercest
forces own, To bring so far this heavy vengeance on; She stood with
Romans while their hearts were true, And so she shall, Americans, with
you. Should heaven in wrath decree some nation’s fall, Whose crimes from
thence for sacred vengeance call, A monarch first of vulgar soul should
rise, A sure fore-runner of its obsequies, Whose heart should glow with
not one gen’rous thought. Born to oppress, to propagate, and rot, Whose
lengthen’d reign no deed of worth should grace. None trusted but a
servile pensioned race; Too dull to know what saving course to take,
That heaven in time its purpose might forsake, Too obstinately will’d to
bow his ear To groaning thousands or petitions hear, Dare break all
oaths that bind the just like fate, Oaths, that th’ Arch-Devil would
blush to violate, And, foe to truth, both oaths and honour sell, To
establish principles, the growth of hell,— Still those who aim to be his
truest friends, Traitors, insidious rebels, madmen, fiends, Hoodwink’d
and blind, deceived by secret foes, Whose fathers once with exil’d
tyrants rose, Bless’d with as little sense as God e’er gave, Slave to
wrong schemes, dupe to a noble knave. So odd a monarch heaven in wrath
would plan, And such would be the fury of a man. See far and wide o’er
long Canadia’s plains, Old popish fraud and superstition reigns; The
scarlet whore long hath heaven withstood, Who cries for murder and who
thirsts for blood, Establish’d there, marks down each destined name, And
plants the stake impatient for the flame, With sanguinary soul her
trade begins, To doom her foes to hell or pardon sins; Her crafty
priests their impious rites maintain, And crucify their Saviour once
again; Defend his rights, who, scatt’ring lies abroad, With shameless
front usurps the seat of God: Those are, we fear, who his vile cause
assert, But half reform’d and papists at the heart. Bear me, some power,
as far as the winds can blow, As ships can travel, or as waves can
flow, To some lone island beyond the southern pole, Or lands round which
pacific waters roll, There should oblivion stop the heaving sigh, There
should I live at least with liberty. But honour checks my speed and
bids me stay, To try the fortune of the well fought day. Resentment for
my country’s fate I bear, And mix with thousands for the willing war;
See Washington New Albion’s freedom owns, And moves to war with half
Virginia’s sons, Bold in the fight, whose actions might have aw’d A
Roman Hero, or a Grecian God. He, he, as first his gallant troops shall
lead, Undaunted man, a second Diomede; As when he fought at wild Ohio’s
flood, When savage thousands issu’d from the wood, When Braddock’s fall
disgrac’d the mighty day, And Death himself stood weeping o’er his prey,
When doubting vict’ry chang’d from side to side, And Indian sod with
Indian blood was dy’d, When the last charge repuls’d th’ invenom’d foe,
And lightnings lit them to the shades below. See where from various
distant climes unites A generous council to protect our rights, Fix’d on
a base too steadfast to be mov’d, Loving their country, by their
country lov’d, Great guardians of our freedom, we pursue Each patriot
measure as inspir’d by you, Columbia, nor shall fame deny it owes Past
safety to the counsel you propose; And if they do not keep Columbia
free, What will alas! become of Liberty? Great souls grow bolder in
their country’s cause, Detest enslavers, and despise their laws. O
Congress fam’d, accept this humble lay, The little tribute that the muse
can pay; On you depends Columbia’s future fate, A free asylum or a
wretched state. Fall’n on disastrous times we push our plea, Heard or
not heard, and struggle to be free. Born to contend, our lives we place
at stake, And grow immortal by the stand we make. O you, who, far from
liberty detain’d, Wear out existence in some slavish land, Fly thence
from tyrants, and their flatt’ring throng, And bring the fiery freeborn
soul along. Neptune for you shall smooth the hoary deep, And awe the
wild tumultuous waves to sleep; Here vernal woods, and flow’ry meadows
blow, Luxuriant harvests in rich plenty grow, Commerce extends as far as
waves can roll, And freedom, God-like freedom, crowns the whole. And
you, brave men, who scorn the dread of death, Resolv’d to conquer to the
latest breath, Soldiers in act, and heroes in renown, Warm in the cause
of Boston’s hapless town, Still guard each pass; like ancient Romans,
you At once are soldiers, and are farmers too; Still arm impatient for
the vengeful blow, And rush intrepid on the yielding foe; As when of
late midst clouds of fire and smoke, Whole squadrons fell, or to the
center shook, And even the bravest to your arm gave way, And death,
exulting, ey’d the unhappy fray. Behold, your Warren bleeds, who both
inspir’d To noble deeds, and by his actions fir’d; What pity,
heaven!—but you who yet remain Affect his spirit as you lov’d the man:
Once more, and yet once more for freedom strive, To be a slave what
wretch would dare to live? We too to the last drop our blood will drain,
And not till then shall hated slavery reign, When every effort, every
hope is o’er, And lost Columbia swells our breasts no more. O if that
day, which heaven avert, must come, And fathers, husbands, children,
meet their doom, Let one brave onset yet that doom precede, To shew the
world America can bleed, One thund’ring raise the midnight cry, And one
last flame send Boston to the sky. But cease, foreboding Muse, not
strive to see Dark times deriv’d by fatal destiny; If ever heaven
befriended the distrest, If ever valour succour’d those opprest, Let
America rejoice, thy standard rear, Let the loud trumpet animate to war:
Thy guardian Genius, haste thee on thy way, To strike whole hosts with
terror and dismay. Happy some land, which all for freedom gave, Happier
the men whom their own virtues save; Thrice happy we who long attacks
have stood, And swam to Liberty thro’ seas of blood; The time shall come
when strangers rule no more, Nor cruel mandates vex from Britain’s
shore: When Commerce shall extend her short’ned wing. And her free
freights from every climate bring; When mighty towns shall flourish free
and great. Vast their dominion, opulent their state: When one vast
cultivated region teems, From ocean’s edge to Mississippi’s streams;
While each enjoys his vineyard’s peaceful shade, And even the meanest
has no cause to dread; Such is the life our foes with envy see, Such is
the godlike glory to be free.
