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Serapis was attacked only by the first, but the Bon Homme Richard was assailed by both; there was five feet water in the hold, and though it was moderate from the explosion of so much gunpowder, yet the three pumps that remained could with difficulty only keep the water from gaining. The fire broke out in various parts of the ship, in spite of all the water that could be thrown in to quench it, and at length broke out as low as the powder magazine, and within a few inches of the powder. In that dilemma, I took out the powder upon deck, ready to be thrown over. board at the last extremity, and it was ten o'clock the next day, the 24th, before the fire was entirely extinguished. With respect to the situation of the Bon Homme Richard, the rudder was cut entirely off, the stern frame and transoms were almost entirely cut away, and the timbers by the lower deck, especially from the main-mast toward the stern, being greatly decayed with age, were mangled beyond my power of description, and a person must have been an eye witness to form a just idea of the tremendous scene of carnage, wreck, and ruin, which everywhere appeared. Humanity cannot but recoil from the prospect of such finished horror, and lament that war should be capable of producing such fatal consequences.

After the carpenters, as well as Captain Cottineau and other men of sense, had well examined and surveyed the ship (which was not finished before five in the evening), I found every person to be convinced that it was impossible to keep the Bon Homme Richard afloat so as to reach a port, if the wind should increase, it being then only a very moderate breeze. I had but little time to remove my wounded, which now became unavoidable, and which was effected in the course of the night and next morning. I was determined to keep the Bon Homme Richard afloat, and, if possible, to bring her into port. For that purpose the first lieutenant of the Pallas continued on board with a party of men to attend the pumps, with boats in waiting ready to take them on board, in case the water should gain on them too fast. The wind augmented in the night, and the next day, the 25th, so that it was impossible to prevent the good old ship from sinking. They did not abandon her till after nine o'clock; the water was then up to the lower deck, and a little after ten I saw, with inexpressible grief, the last glimpse of the Bon Homme Richard. No lives were lost with the ship, but it was impossible to save the stores of any sort whatever. I lost even the best part of my clothes, books, and papers; and several of my officers lost all their clothes and effects.

Having thus endeavored to give a clear and simple relation of the cir. cumstances and events that have attended the little armament under my command, I shall freely submit my conduct therein to the censure of my superiors and the impartial public. I beg leave, however, to observe that the force put under my command was far from being well composed,

and as the great majority of the actors in it have appeared bent on the pursuit of interest only, I am exceedingly sorry that they and I have been at all concerned.

Captain Cottineau engaged the Countess of Scarborough, and took her, after an hour's action, while the Bon Homme Richard engaged the Serapis. The Countess of Scarborough is an armed ship of twenty sixpounders, and was commanded by a king's officer. In the action, the Countess of Scarborough and the Serapis were at a considerable distance asunder; and the Alliance, as I am informed, fired into the Pallas and killed some men. If it should be asked why the convoy was suffered to escape, I must answer that I was myself in no condition to

pursue,

and that none of the rest showed any inclination ; not even Mr. Ricot, who had held off at a distance to windward during the whole action, and withheld by force the pilot boat with my lieutenant and fifteen men. The Alliance, too, was in a state to pursue the fleet, not having had a single man wounded or a single shot fired at her from the Serapis, and only three that did execution from the Countess of Scarborough, at such a distance that one stuck in the side, and the other two just touched and then dropped into the water. The Alliance killed one man only on board the Serapis. As Captain de Cottineau charged himself with manning and securing the prisoners of the Countess of Scarborough, I think the escape of the Baltic fleet cannot so well be charged to his account.

I should have mentioned that the main-mast and mizzen-topmast of the Serapis fell overboard soon after the captain had come on board the Bon Homme Richard.

Jonathan Mitchel Sewall.

Born in Salem, Mass., 1748.

Died at Portsmouth, N. H., 1808.

A CRY TO BATTLE.

[Epilogue to Cato," written in 1778.— Miscellaneous Poems. 1801.]

YOU

COU see mankind the same in every age;

Heroic fortitude, tyrannic rage,
Boundless ambition, patriotic truth,
And hoary treason, and untainted youth,
Have deeply marked all periods and all climes:
The noblest virtues, and the blackest crimes!

Britannia's daring sins and virtues both,
Perhaps once marked the Vandal and the Goth,
And what now gleams with dawning ray at home
Once blazed in full-orbed majesty at Rome.

Did Cæsar, drunk with power, and madly brave,
Insatiate burn, his country to enslave?
Did he for this lead forth a servile host,
And spill the choicest blood that Rome could boast ?
Our British Cæsar too has done the same,
And damned this age to everlasting fame.
Columbia's crimsoned fields still smoke with gore !
Her bravest heroes cover all the shore!
The flower of Britain too in martial bloom,
In one sad year sent headlong to the tomb!

Rise then, my countrymen! for fight prepare,
Gird on your swords, and fearless rush to war!
For your grieved country nobly dare to die,
And empty all your veins for liberty.
No pent-up Utica contracts your powers,
But the whole boundless continent is yours!

WAR AND WASHINGTON.

(As Sung during the Revolution. From the Same.)

VAIN Britons, boast no longer with proud indignity,

AIN

By land your conquering legions, your matchless strength at sea, Since we, your braver sons incensed, our swords have girded on, Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, for war and Washington.

Urged on by North and vengeance those valiant champions came,
Loud bellowing Tea and Treason, and George was all on flame,
Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on,
And laugh at all their empty puffs, huzza for Washington!

Still deaf to mild entreaties, still blind to England's good,
You have for thirty pieces betrayed your country's blood.
Like Esop's greedy cur you'll gain a shadow for your bone,
Yet find us fearful shades indeed, inspired by Washington.

Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehensible!
The blundering schemes of Britain their folly, pride, and zeal,
Like lions how ye growl and threat! mere asses have you shown,
And ye shall share an ass's fate, and drudge for Washington!

Your dark unfathomed councils our weakest heads defeat,
Our children rout your armies, our boats destroy your fleet,
And to complete the dire disgrace, cooped up within a town,
You live the scorn of all our host, the slaves of Washington!

Great Heaven! is this the nation whose thundering arms were hurled,
Through Europe, Afric, India? whose navy ruled a world?
The lustre of your former deeds, whole ages of renown,
Lost in a moment, or transferred to us and Washington!

Yet think not thirst of glory unsheaths our vengeful swords
To rend your bands asunder, and cast away your cords.
'Tis heaven-born freedom fires us all, and strengthens each brave son,
From him who humbly guides the plough, to god-like Washington.

For this, oh could our wishes your ancient rage inspire,
Your armies should be doubled, in numbers, force, and fire.
Then might the glorious conflict prove which best deserved the boon,
America or Albion, a George or Washington!

Fired with the great idea, our Fathers' shades would rise,
To view the stern contention, the gods desert their skies;
And Wolfe, 'midst hosts of heroes, superior bending down,
Cry out with eager transport, God save great Washington!
Should George, too choice of Britons, to foreign realms apply,
And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy
Turk, Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all those powers in one,
While Adams guides our senate, our camp great Washington!

Should warlike weapons fail us, disdaining slavish fears,
To swords we'll beat our ploughshares, our pruning-books to spears,
And rush, all desperate! on our foe, nor breathe till battle won,
Then shout, and shout America! and conquering Washington!

Proud France should view with terror, and hauglity Spain revere,
While every warlike nation would court alliance here;
And George, his minions trembling round, dismounting from his throne
Pay homage to America and glorious Washington!

Hugh Henry Brackenridge.

BORN near Campbelton, Scotland, 1748. Died at Carlisle, Penn., 1816.

BUNKER'S HILL.

(The Battle of Bunker's Hill. A Dramatic Piece in Five Acts. 1776.]

Υου
OU bold warriors, who resemble

Flames upon the distant hill;
At whose view the heroes tremble,

Fighting with unequal skill.

Loud-sounding drums, now with hoarse murmurs,

Rouse the spirit up to war;
Fear not, fear not, though their numbers

Much to ours superior are.
Hear brave Warren, bold commanding :

“Gallant souls and veterans brave, See the enemy just landing

From the navy-covered wave.
Close the wings-advance the centre-

Engineers point well your guns-
Clap the matches-let the rent air

Bellow to Britannia's sons."

Now, think you see three thousand moving,

Up the brow of Bunker's hill;
Many a gallant veteran shoving

Cowards on, against their will.
The curling volumes all behind them,

Dusky clouds of smoke arise;
Our cannon-balls, brave boys, shall find them,

At each shot a hero dies.
Once more, Warren, 'midst this terror,

"Charge, brave soldiers, charge again! Many an expert veteran warrior

Of the enemy is slain.
Level well your charged pieces,

In direction to the town;
They shake, they shake, their lightning ceases;

That shot brought six standards down."

Maids in virgin beauty blooming,

On Britannia's sea-girt isle,
Say no more your swains are coming,

Or with songs the day beguile,
For sleeping found in death's embraces,

On their clay-cold beds they lie;
Death, grim death, alas, defaces

Youth and pleasure, which must die. “March the right wing, Gardiner, yonder;

The hero spirit lives in thunder; Take the assailing foe in flank,

Close there, sergeants, close that rauk. The conflict now doth loudly call on

Highest proof of martial skill: Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on

The slippery brow of Bunker's Hill.”

Unkindest fortune, still thou changest,

As the wind upon the wave;
The good and bad alike thou rangest,

Undistinguished in the grave.

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