The harbour was block'd up No ship could sail; Our fishery was stopt, A doleful tale! Unto their God. The Congress that we chose And to withstand our foes, With great reluctancy That he would be our friend, In troubles great. But oh! when cruel Gage Did see that we Would not bow to his rage And tyranny; His guards were stretch'd along Of British troops. Gage was both base and mean, The men he sent were seen It was in Lexington, Where patriots' blood did run In crimson gore. Here sons of freedom fell Rather than flee, Unto those brutes of hell They fell a prey; But they shall live again, Their names shall rise and reign Among the noble slain In all our land. But oh! this cruel foe Shall be defam'd. Their practice thus so base And now this cruelty Was spread abroad, The sons of liberty In troubles they could smile, Our army willingly Of tyrants' rage. But when old Gage did see Through all our land, On Charlestown he display'd An act abhorr'd To Bunker-hill they came And many there were slain, They call'd it bloody hill, A wonder here was wrought, Brave WASHINGTON did come He left his native home, Filled with grief; He did not covet gain, His bosom glow'd with love His passions much did move To orphans' cry. He let proud tyrants know, Into their den. This frighted them full sore Oh! thus did the tyrants fly, Their fleets have cross'd the main They've come in mighty haste The Southern States must taste Britons and Hessian troops, A brutish throng, Near Charleston bar. That freedom's cause was good, And drubb'd them well. And with his scatter'd fleet Howe's fleet cover'd the sea To try once more; Long Island I do mean, Where our brave men did die, No succor could come nigh Here valiant men did bleed, Of that base crew. And then he thought best To leave that place, Than there to stand the test Go farther from the fleet, Du Simitière's volume of poetical selections in MS., to which we have frequently expressed our obligations, furnishes us with some lively verses for the outset of 1776, which are there entitled Parody by John Tabor Kemp, Attorney-General of New York, to welcome Cortland Skinner, Attorney-General of New Jersey, on board of the Asia Man-of-War, at New York, Feb., 1776. I. Welcome, welcome, brother Tory, II. As you serve, like us, the King, sir, Than to swing another way. III. Should vile Whigs come here to plunder, And the Phoenix in a flame. In 1776, appeared The Fall of British Tyranny: or American Liberty Triumphant,-The First Campaign; a Tragi-Comedy of five acts, as lately planned at the Royal Theatrum Pandemonium, at St. James'. Phila. 8vo. pp. 66. It is one of several dramatic satires, like the Group of Mrs. Warren, which appeared during the war. We present a portion of THE DEDICATION. To Lord Boston, and the Remnant of the Actors, Merry-Andrews, and Strolling Players in Boston, Lord Kidnapper, and the rest of the Pirates and Buccaneers, and the innumerable and never-ending Clan of Macs and Donalds upon Donalds, in America: My Lords and Gentlemen, Understanding you are vastly fond of plays and farces, and frequently exhibit them for your own amusement, and the laudable purpose of ridiculing your masters (the Yankees, as you call 'em), it was expected you would have been polite enough to have favoured the world, or America at least (at The deputy paymaster general of the King's army, that has also fled on board of the Asia, and continually walks the quarter-deck. whose expence you act them) with some of your play-bills, or with a sample of your composition. This is signed "DICK RIFLE," and is followed by a prose preface, and this by THE GODDESS OF LIBERTY. Hail! patriots, hail! by me inspired be! Be your hearts warm-but let your hands be pure, The characters of the play consist of the leading statesmen of England, who are introduced under descriptive names, Bute being Lord Paramount, Mansfield Lord Mocklaw, &c.; Gage figures as Lord Boston, and Washington, Lee, and Putnam appear in propria persona. The scene is laid in England, and at Lexington and Bunker's Hill. The dialogue is in prose and somewhat stiff. The following song is sung by one of two shepherds, near Lexington, who have a discussion of public affairs "after the defeat and flight of the Regulars." Roger says, "This is the First of May; our shepherds and nymphs are celebrating our glorious St. Tammany's day; we'll hear the song out, and then join in the frolic, and chorus it o'er and o'er again. This day shall be devoted to joy and festivity." SONG. Tune.- The Ilounds are all out." I. Of St. George, or St. Bute, let the poet laureat sing, Of Pharaoh or Pluto of old, While he rhimes forth their praise, in false flattering lays, I'll sing of St. Tamm'ny the bold, my brave boys. II. Let Hibernia's sons boast, make Patrick their toast, III. In freedom's bright cause, Tamm'ny pled with applause, And reason'd most justly from nature; IV. Whilst under an oak his great parliament sat, V. His subjects stood round, not the least noise or sound, Whilst freedom blaz'd full in each face; So plain were the laws, and each pleaded his cause, That might Bute, North, and Mansfield disgrace, my brave boys. VI. No duties, nor stamps, their blest liberty cramps, A king, though no tyrant was he; He did ofttimes declare, nay sometimes would swear The least of his subjects were free, my brave boys. VII. He, as king of the woods, of the rivers and floods, Had a right all beasts to control; Yet, content with a few, to give nature her due; So gen'rous was Tammany's soul, my brave boys. VIII. In the morn he arose, and a hunting he goes, For his breakfast he'd take a large venison steak, IX. While all in a row, with squaw, dog and bow, With feathery head he rang'd the woods wide: X. His jetty black hair, such as Buckskin saints wear, ΧΙ. The strong nervous deer, with amazing career, XIL When he'd run down a stag, he behind him would lag, For, so noble a soul had he; He'd stop, tho' he lost it, tralition reports it, To give him fresh chance to get free, my brave boys. XIII. With a mighty strong arm, and a masculine bow, And as sure as he shot, it was ever his lot, XIV. His table he spread where the venison bled, He'd laugh and he'd sing, tho' a saint and a king, XV. Then over the hills, o'er the mountains and rills, And ne'er in his days, Indian history says, XVI. On an old stump he sat, without cap or hat, When supper was ready to eat, Snap, his dog, he stood by, and cast a sheep's eye; For ven'son, the king of all meat, my brave boys. XVIL Like Isaac of old, and both cast in one mould, XIX. As old age came on, he grew blind, deaf and dumb, And blaz'd like the tail of a comet, brave boys. XX. What country on earth, then, did ever give birth, To such a magnanimous saint? His acts far excel all that history tell, And language too feeble to paint, my brave boys. ΧΧΙ. Now, to finish my song, a full flowing bowl And with punch and wine paint my cheeks for my saint, And hail ev'ry first of sweet May, my brave boys. We have next to present a poem, which, though dated from a distant city, has the true home spirit of the time. To the tune of "Smile Britannia." Thy spear pois'd to the skies, Whirl, whirl thy rapid car; Fire each firm breast with noble zeal, Has hover'd o'er our heads, Whose power all Europe dreads; But Freedom's sons all fears despise. Thought fear made us complain. Has steel'd the tyrant's soul; He bids his thunders roll, And free-born souls unite, Us to defend our right For mercenary hire; Each pulse new ardors fire, They boast their power by sea, Our navy soon they'll see, Wide o'er the ocean spread; Come all you brave soldiers, both valiant and free, But from merciless tyrants we'll set ourselves clear. Heaven's blessing attending us, no tyrant shall say That Americans e'er to such monsters gave way; But, fighting, we'll die in America's cause, Before we'll submit to tyrannical laws. George the Third, of Great Britain, no more shall he reign, With unlimited sway o'er these free states again; Lord North, nor old Bute, nor none of their clan, Shall ever be honor'd by an American. May heaven's blessing descend on our United States, But from all earthly tyrants we mean to be free. Unto our brave generals may heaven give skill, Be able to put British armies to flight. And now, brave Americans, since it is so, That we are independent we'll have them to know, That united we are, and united we'll be, And from all British tyrants we'll try to keep free. May heaven smile on us in all our endeavours, Keep us from invaders, by land and by sea, A continuation of Hudibras, in Two Cantos, written in the time of the Unhappy Contest between Great Britain and America, in 1777 and 1778, published in London in the latter year, contains a parody, with comments, on the Declaration of Independence, and may with propriety be inserted here. We are without clue to the name or place of nativity of the author, but it is probably an American production. When in the course of human things, Break bonds by which they were connected; An equal rank, to which their birth, First, let this downright maxim strike, 'Mong these we lay the greatest stress, And should they afterwards be tir'd, Of great abuse and usurpation, And rule us by despotic sway; It is our right and our intent, During the winter which followed the battle of Trenton occurred. We have a ballad in its honor. BATTLE OF TRENTON. On Christmas day in '76, Our ragged troops with bayonets fix'd, The Delaware see, the boats below, Our object was the Hessian band, Great Washington he led us on, Their pickets storm'd, the alarm was spread, Were marching into town. Some scamper'd here, some scamper'd there, And some for action did prepare, But soon their arms laid down. Twelve hundred servile miscreants, With all their colours, guns, and tents, Were trophies of the day: The frolic o'er, the bright canteen, Now, brothers of the patriot bands, And as life you know is but a span, One of the patriotic productions of the same year was a poem, in a pamphlet of fifteen pages, commenting in a severe but not equally forcible style on the conduct of Lord North. We quote the title-page, confident that the reader will not "ask for more." The Continental Key of the Liberties of America; in three parts. Perhaps the critics of the age, Well, they have their faults, I have mine. If any man should ask the price, New York, printed for Elijah Weige, 1776. * McCarty's Songs, i. 24. |