Page:The American Revolution (scriptural style).djvu/370



4 CO LU MB I AD. r^

Brave Braddock^ firft of all the martial train, Prffs'dthe celd earth, and bit th'enfanguin'd plain 1 A criinfon flood fwift ifjued from his breaft, His armour ftain'd, and drench'd his fcarlet vcft I Then dire difmay opprefs'd each warriors foul, And chilling fear and dread, unman'd the whole.

Till JVashington I — a name forever dear I Hevlv'd their ardor, and difpell'd their fear. Dauntlsfs he fac'd the late infulting foe, And fet them bounds, o'er which they feard to go j Snatch'd the ftorn laurels from the tawny race, Kedeem'd the day, and dignlfy'd — difgrace. A hofi acclaim him with deferv'd applaufe, His country's chaiijpion in fair freedom's caufe. High in the lin of warring-chiefs he ftands. The dread of France, and all the Indian bands.

When peace at length refum'd her gentle fwayj And dresdiul heroes threw their arms away i No more his conc.'ring fword flam'd round the land, Then agriculture fmil'd beneath his hand. The arts of peace Avere open to his view;— The friend fincere, and to his country true. i3omertric cares his leifue hours employ, And the chaile Anna, fnares in all his joy.

Were it my lot, 'midfl fuch lov'd fcenes to dwell, Joyful I'd bid th' ambitious world farewell; But fate has fixVl to man eternal bounds, And fiernly barr'd the high and fpacious mounds. Yet will I fing amidft the dorms of life, And bravely combat in the glorious ftrife. Nor ineanly bow to fortune's gilded flirine, While time n:!all lall:, and honeii virtue's mine. The fxkle goddcfs hates the whining wretch. Who meanlytruckles to be great or rich;