"Or surely we despised shall be,
"And British courage doubted."

The royal band, now ready stand
All rang'd in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.

The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.

The rebel dales, the rebel vales,
With rebel trees surrounded;
The distant wood, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.

The fish below swam to and fro,
Attack'd from ev'ry quarter;

Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay, 'Mongst folks above the water.

The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made,
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,
The conqu'ring 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 valour 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 boasts and brags, sir.

N.B. This ballad was occasioned by a real incident. Certain machines, in the form of kegs, charg'd with gun powder, were sent down the river to annoy the British shipping then at Philadelphia. The danger of these machines being discovered, the British manned the wharfs and shipping, and discharged their small arms and cannons at every thing they saw floating in the river during the ebb tide.

AN EPITAPH FOR AN INFANT

Sleep on, sweet babe! no dreams annoy thy rest,
Thy spirit flew unsullied from thy breast:
Sleep on, sweet innocent! nor shalt thou dread
The passing storm that thunders o'er thy head:
Thro' the bright regions of yon azure sky,
A winged seraph, now she soars on high;
Or, on the bosom of a cloud reclin'd,
She rides triumphant on the rapid wind;
Or from its source pursues the radiant day;
Or on a sun-beam, smoothly glides away;
Or mounts aerial, to her blest abode,
And sings, inspir'd, the praises of her God:
Unveiled, thence, to her extensive eye,
Nature, and Nature's Laws, expanded lie:
Death, in one moment, taught this infant more
Than
years or ages ever taught before.

SONG VI

O'er the hills far away, at the birth of the morn
I hear the full tone of the sweet sounding horn;
The sportsmen with shoutings all hail the new day
And swift run the hounds o'er the hills far away.

Across the deep valley their course they pursue And rush thro' the thickets yet silver'd with dew; Nor hedges nor ditches their speed can delay — Still sounds the sweet horn o'er hills far away.

MERCY OTIS WARREN

[Mercy Otis Warren (1728-1814) was one of the most interesting literary women of the Revolutionary time. She was the sister of James Otis and the wife of James Warren, and had an intimate acquaintance with many distinguished patriot families besides the two with which she was thus connected. She carried on an extensive correspondence with notable men and women, and seems to have been consulted, or at least taken into confidence, in many councils regarding political matters. The greater part of her writings are political or have an indirect political bearing. Among her earliest attempts were two satires in dramatic form, "The Adulator" and "The Group." In both these the characters were recognizable as caricatures of contemporaries. Later, she wrote two formal tragedies in blank verse, "The Sack of Rome" and "The Ladies of Castile." These have no direct reference to contemporary events, but both expound the idea of political liberty. These two plays and a few other poems, some of them occasional, make up a volume of "Poems, Dramatic and Miscellaneous," published in 1790. In 1805 she published her "History of the Rise, Progress and Termination of the American Revolution, interspersed with Biographical, Political and Moral Observations." The author's wide acquaintance with political leaders had given her a first-hand knowledge of many facts, and the definiteness of her beliefs and prejudices makes her "observations" interesting if not always profitable.

Mrs. Warren had a tendency to satirize, with the kind of satire that is unrelieved by humor. She was especially famous for her pen pictures of persons that she had known, and she is most interesting when depicting those of whom she does not approve. Some strictures on John Adams near the close of her "History" led to a temporary suspension of friendly relations with that statesman, and to the exchange of some very pointed letters, which have been printed in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. In both prose and verse Mrs. Warren affected a formal and artificial style. This can be seen in her personal correspondence as well as her writings intended for publication. She signed herself "Philomela" in letters which she addressed to her friend Mrs. Winthrop as "Narcissa," and to her friend Mrs. Adams as "Portia." Even her letters to her children contain artificial poetic talk about "Strephon and Collin," etc. This sort of absurdity was a literary disease prevailing at the time, and while Mrs. Warren was by nature subject to it, and her works may be studied for a knowledge of the symptoms, the importance of her affectation must not be overrated.

The selections follow the first editions of "The Group," the "Poems, Dramatic and Miscellaneous," and the "History," published in Boston in 1775, 1790, and 1805, respectively.]

A LOYALIST DIALOGUE

[From "The Group," Act II, Scene III 1]

Simple Sappling. Though my paternal Acres are eat up, My patrimony spent, I've yet an house

My lenient creditors let me improve,

Send up the Troops, 'twill serve them well for Barracks.

I some how think 'twould bear a noble sound,

To have my mansion guarded by the King.

Sylla. Hast thou no sons or blooming daughters there,
To call up all the feelings of a Father,

Least their young minds contaminate by vice,
Caught from such inmates, dangerous and vile,
Devoid of virtue, rectitude, or honour

Save what accords with military fame?
Hast thou no wife who asks thy tender care,
To guard her from Belona's hardy sons?
Who when not toiling in the hostile field
Are faithful vot'ries to the Cyprian Queen.
Or is her soul of such materials made,
Indelicate, and thoughtless of her fame:
So void of either sentiment or sense,
As makes her a companion fit for thee!

Simple Sappling. Silvia's good natur'd, and no doubt will yield, And take the brawny vet'rans to her board,

When she's assur'd 'twill help her husband's fame.

If she complains or murmurs at the plan,

Let her solicit charity abroad;

Let her go out and seek some pitying friend

[The characters in this satiric drama represent well-known British sympathizers. "Sylla" is General Gage; ""Brigadier Hateall" is said to be Timothy Ruggles; "Simple Sappling," Nathaniel Ray Thomas; "Collateralis, a new made judge," Brown. The stage direction for this scene reads: "The fragments of the broken Council appear with trembling servile Gestures, shewing several applications to the General from the Under-Tools in the distant Counties, begging each a guard of myrmidons to protect them from the armed multitudes (which the guilty horrors of their wounded consciences hourly presented to their frightened imaginations) approaching to take speedy vengeance on the Court Parasites, who had fled for refuge to the Camp, by immediate destruction to their Pimps, Panders and Sycophants left behind."]