"Therefore prepare for bloody war
The kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."
The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,
And conquering British troops, sir.
From morn to night these men of might
Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,
Retir'd to sup their porrage.
An hundred men with each a pen,
Or more upon my word, sir,
It is most true would be too few,
Their valor to record, sir.
Such feats did they perform that day,
Against these wick'd kegs, sir,
That, years to come, if they get home
They'll make their boast and brags, sir.
HAIL COLUMBIA
Hail, Columbia ! happy land!
Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band!
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
And when the storm of war was gone
Enjoyed the peace your valor won.
Let independence be our boast
Ever mindful what it cost;
Ever grateful for the prize,
Let its altar reach the skies.
Firm, united, let us be,
Rallying round our Liberty;
As a band of brothers joined,
Peace and safety we shall find.
Immortal patriots! rise once more:
Defend your rights, defend your shore:
Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
Invade the shrine where sacred lies
Of toil and blood the well-earned prize.
While offering peace sincere and just,
In Heaven we place a manly trust,
That truth and justice will prevail,
And every scheme of bondage fail.
Firm, united, etc.
Sound, sound the trump of Fame!
Let WASHINGTON'S great name
Ring through the world with loud applause, Ring through the world with loud applause, Let every clime to Freedom dear,
Listen with a joyful ear.
With equal skill and godlike power,
He governed in the fearful hour
Of horrid war; or guides, with ease,
The happier times of honest peace.
Behold the chief who now commands,
Once more to serve his country, stands-
The rock on which the storm will beat,
The rock on which the storm will beat;
But, armed in virtue firm and true,
His hopes are fixed on Heaven and you.
When hope was sinking in dismay,
And glooms obscured Columbia's day,
His steady mind, from changes free,
Resolved on death or liberty.
Firm, united, let us be,
Rallying round our Liberty;
As a band of brothers joined,
Peace and safety we shall find.
Author Unknown.
(Professor Simonds calls this "a wonderfully tender and impressive tribute to the memory of Nathan Hale.”)
THE BALLAD OF NATHAN HALE
The breezes went steadily through the tall pines,
A-saying, "oh! hu-ush!" a-saying "oh ! hu-ush!"
As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse,
For Hale in the bush, for Hale in the bush.
"Keep still!" said the thrush as she nestled her young,
In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road.
"For the tyrants are near, and with them appear
What bodes us no good, what bodes us no good."
The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home
In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook.
With mother and sister and memories dear,
He so gayly forsook, he so gayly forsook.
Cooling shades of the night were coming apace,
The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat.
The noble one sprang from his dark lurking-place,
To make his retreat, to make his retreat.
He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves,
As he passed through the wood; as he passed through the wood;
And silently gained his rude launch on the shore,
As she played with the flood, as she played with the flood.
The guards of the camp on that dark, dreary night,
Had a murderous will; had a murderous will;
They took him and bore him afar from the shore,
To a hut on the hill; to a hut on the hill.
No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer,
In that little stone cell; in that little stone cell.
But he trusted in love, from his Father above.
In his heart all was well; in his heart all was well.
An ominous owl, with his solemn bass voice,
Sat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by:
"The tyrant's proud minions most gladly rejoice,
For he must soon die; for he must soon die."
The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrained,-
The cruel general! the cruel general!
His errand from camp, of the ends to be gained,
And said that was all; and said that was all.
They took him and bound him and bore him away, Down the hill's grassy side; down the hill's grassy side. 'Twas there the base hirelings, in royal array,
His cause did deride; his cause did deride.
Five minutes were given, short moments, no more,
For him to repent; for him to repent.
He prayed for his mother, he asked not another,
To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went.
The faith of a martyr the tragedy showed,
As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage.
And Britons will shudder at gallant Hale's blood,
As his words do presage; as his words do presage.
"Thou pale king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,
Go frighten the slave; go frighten the slave;
Tell tyrants, to you their allegiance they owe.
No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave."
Prominent among the Revolutionary poets were John Trumbull, Joel Barlow, and Timothy Dwight, all three of them Yale men. They belonged to a group of literary men known as the "Hartford Wits."
John Trumbull (1750-1831), the best known of the "Hartford Wits," wrote many poems, the most ambitious being McFingal, a mock heroic epic modelled on Butler's Hudibras. It depicts the troubles of a Tory squire surrounded by patriotic Americans. This was the most famous political satire of the Revolution. An extract follows.
MCFINGAL TO THE WHIGS
(From McFingal, Canto II)
Your boasted patriotism is scarce,
And country's love is but a farce:
For after all the proofs you bring,
We Tories know there's no such thing.
Hath not Dalrymple show'd in print,
And Johnson too, there's nothing in 't;
Produced you demonstration ample,
From others' and their own example,
That self is still, in either faction,
The only principle of action;
The loadstone, whose attracting tether
Keeps the politic world together:
And spite of all your double dealing,
We all are sure 'tis so, from feeling.
And who believes you will not run?
Ye're cowards, every mother's son;
And if you offer to deny,
We've witnesses to prove it by.
Attend th' opinion first, as referee,
Of your old general, stout Sir Jeffrey;
Who swore that with five thousand foot
He'd rout you all, and in pursuit
Run thro' the land, as easily
As camel thro' a needle's eye.
Did not the mighty Colonel Grant
Against your courage pour his rant,
Affirm your universal failure
In every principle of valour,
And swear no scamperers e'er could match you,
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