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So, hearing that most of you rebels were dead,
That some bad submitted, and others had fled,
I mustered my tories, myself at their head,

Anıl over we scudded, our hearts full of glee,
As merry as ever poor devils could be,
Our ancient dominion, Virginia, to see;

Our shoe-boys, and tars, and the very cook's mate
Already conceived he possessed an estate,
And the tories no longer were cursing their fate.

Myself, the Don Quixote, and each of the crew,
Like Sancho, had islands and empires in view
They were captains and knights, and the devil knows who:

But now, to our sorrow, disgrace, and surprise,
No longer deceived by the Father of Lies, *
We hear with our ears, and we see with our eyes:-

I have therefore to make you a modest request
(And I'm sure in my mind it will be for the best),
Admit me again to your mansions of rest.

There are Eden, and Martin, and Franklin and Tryon,
All waiting to see you submit to the Lion,
And may wait till the devil is king of Mount Sion :-

Though a brute and a dunce, like the rest of the clan,
I can govern as well as most Englishmen can;
And if I'm a drunkard, I still am a mau.

I missed it somehow in comparing my notes,
Or six years ago I had joined with your votes;
Not aided the negroes in cutting your throats.

Although with so many hard names I was branded,
I hope you'll believe (as you will if you're candid),
That I only performed what my master commanded.

Give me lands, . . . . and dice, and you still may be free:
Let who will be master, we sha'n't disagree;
If King or if Congress—no matter to me.

I hope you will send me an answer straightway,
For 'tis plain that at Charleston we cannot long stay-
And your humble petitioner ever shall pray.

CHARLESTON, 6 Jan., 1782.

*The Printer of the Royal Gazette.


[The Poems of Philip Freneau. 1786.—Poems Written During the Revolutionary War,

etc. 3d Ed. 1809.)


AT T Eutaw Springs the valiant died:

Their limbs with dust are covered o'er;
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;

How many heroes are no more!

If in this wreck of ruin, they

Can yet be thought to claim a tear,
O smite thy gentle breast, and say

The friends or freedom slumber here!

Thon, who shalt trace this bloody plain,

If goodness rules thy generous breast,
Sigh for the wasted rural reign;

Sigh for the shepherds sunk to rest!

Stranger, their humble groyes adorn;

You too may fall, and ask a tear: 'Tis not the beauty of the morn

That proves the evening shall be clear.

They saw their injured country's woe,

The flaming town, the wasted field;
Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;

They took the spear—but left the shield.

Led by thy conquering standards, Greene,

The Britons they compelled to fly:
None distant viewed the fatal plain,

None grieved in such a cause to die

But, like the Parthian, famed of old,

Who, flying, still their arrows threw,
These routed Britons, full as bold,

Retreated, and retreating slew.

Now rest in peace, our patriot band;

Though far from nature's limits thrown,
We trust they find a happier land,

A brighter Phæbus of their own.


'ER the waste of waters cruising,

Long the General Monk had reigned;
All subduing, all reducing,

None her lawless rage restrained:
Many a brave and hearty fellow,

Yielding to this war-like foe,
When her guns began to bellow

Struck his humbled colors low.

But, grown bold with long successes,

Leaving the wide watery way,
She, a stranger to distresses,

Came to cruise within Cape May:
“Now we soon (said Captain Rogers)

Shall their men of commerce meet;
In our hold we'll have them lodgers,

We shall capture half their fleet.
“Lo! I see their van appearing-

Back our top-sails to the mast!
They toward us full are steering

With a gentle western blast:
I've a list of all their cargoes,

All their guns, and all their men:
I am sure these modern Argo’s

Can't escape us one in ten:

Yonder comes the Charming Sally

Sailing with the General Greene-
First we'll fight the Hyder Ally,

Taking her is taking them:
She intends to give us battle,

Bearing down with all her sail-
Now, boys, let our cannon rattle!

To take her we cannot fail.

“Our eighteen guns, each a nine-pounder,

Soon shall terrify this foe;
We shall maul her, we shall wound her,

Bringing rebel colors low."
While he thus anticipated

Conquests that he could not gain,
He in the Cape May channel waited

For the ship that caused his pain.
Captain Barney then preparing,

Thus addressed his gallant crew:
“Now, brave lads, be bold and daring,

Let your hearts be firm and true;

VOL. II.-29

This is a proud English cruiser,

Roving up and down the main, We must fight her-must reduce her,

Though our decks be strewed with slain.

“Let who will be the survivor,

We must conquer or must die, We must take her up the river,

Whate'er comes of you or I: Though she shows most formidable

With her eighteen pointed nines, And her quarters clad in sable,

Let us bauk her proud designs.

“With four nine-pounders and twelve sixes,

We will face that daring band; Let no dangers damp your courage,

Nothing can the brave withstand. Fighting for your country's honor,

Now to gallant deeds aspire; Helmsman, bear us down upon her,

Gunner, give the word to fire!”

Then yard-arm and yard-arm meeting,

Straight began the dismal fray, Cannon mouths, each other greeting,

Belched their smoky flames away; Soon the langrage, grape and chain-shot,

That from Barney's cannons flew, Swept the Monk, and cleared each round-top,

Killed and wounded half her crew.

Captain Rogers strove to rally

His men from their quarters fled, While the roaring Ilyder Ally

Covered o'er his decks with dead. When from their tops their dead men tumbled,

And the streams of blood did flow, Then their proudest hopes were humbled *

By their brave inferior foe.

All aghast, and all confounded,

They beheld their champions fall, And their captain, sorely wounded,

Bade them quick for quarter call. Then the Monk's proud flag descended,

And her cannon ceased to roar; By her crew no more defended,

She confessed the contest o'er.

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