21.

Now, to finish my song, a full flowing bowl I'll quaff, and sing all the long day, And with punch and wine paint my cheeks for my saint, And hail ev'ry First of sweet _May_, my brave boys.

d.i.c.k. What a seraphic voice! how it enlivens my soul! Come away, away, Roger, the moments are precious.

[_Exeunt d.i.c.k and ROGER._

SCENE VII. _In a chamber, near Boston, the morning after the battle of Bunkers-Hill._

CLARISSA. How lovely is this new-born day!--The sun rises with uncommon radiance after the most gloomy night my wearied eyes ever knew.--The voice of slumber was not heard--the angel of sleep was fled--and the awful whispers of solemnity and silence prevented my eye-lids from closing.--No wonder--the terrors and ideas of yesterday--such a scene of war--of tumult--hurry and hubbub--of horror and destruction--the direful noise of conflict--the dismal hissing of iron shot in volleys flying--such bellowing of mortars--such thund'ring of cannon--such roaring of musketry--and such clashing of swords and bayonets--such cries of the wounded--and such streams of blood--such a noise and crush of houses, steeples, and whole streets of desolate Charlestown falling--pillars of fire, and the convulsed vortex of fiery flakes, rolling in flaming wreaths in the air, in dreadful combustion, seemed as tho' the elements and whole earth were envelop'd in one general, eternal conflagration and total ruin, and intermingled with black smoke, ascending, on the wings of mourning, up to Heaven, seemed piteously to implore the Almighty interposition to put a stop to such devastation, lest the whole earth should be unpeopled in the unnatural conflict--Too, too much for female heroism to dwell upon--But what are all those to the terrors that filled my affrighted imagination the last night?--Dreams--fancies--evil bodings--shadows, phantoms and ghastly visions continually hovering around my pillow, goading and harrowing my soul with the most terrific appearances, not imaginary, but real--Am I awake?--Where are the British murderers?--where's my husband?--my son?--my brother?--Something more than human tells me all is not well: If they are among the slain, 'tis impossible.--I--Oh! [_She cries._]

_Enter a NEIGHBOUR_ [_a spectator of the battle_].

NEIGHBOUR. Madam, grieve not so much.

CLARISSA. Am I wont to grieve without a cause? Wou'd to G.o.d I did;--mock me not--What voice is that? methinks I know it--some angel sent to comfort me?--welcome then. [_She turns about._] Oh, my Neighbour, is it you? My friend, I have need of comfort. Hast thou any for me?--say--will you not speak? Where's my husband?--my son?--my brother? Hast thou seen them since the battle? Oh! bring me not unwelcome tidings! [_Cries._]

NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. What shall I say?_] Madam, I beheld them yesterday from an eminence.

CLARISSA. Upon that very eminence was I. What then?--

NEIGHBOUR. I saw the brave man Warren, your son and brother.

CLARISSA. What? O ye G.o.ds!--Speak on friend--stop--what saw ye?

NEIGHBOUR. In the midst of the tempest of war--

CLARISSA. Where are they now?--That I saw too--What is all this?

NEIGHBOUR. Madam, hear me--

CLARISSA. Then say on--yet--Oh, his looks!--I fear!

NEIGHBOUR. When General Putnam bid the vanguard open their front to the--

CLARISSA. Oh, trifle not with me--dear Neighbour!--where shall I find them?--say--

NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. Heavens! must I tell her!_] Madam, be patient--right and left, that all may see who hate us, we are prepar'd for them--

CLARISSA. What then?--Can you find 'em?--

NEIGHBOUR. I saw Warren and the other two heroes firm as Roxbury stand the shock of the enemy's fiercest attacks, and twice put to flight their boasted phalanx.--

CLARISSA. All that I saw, and more; say--wou'd they not come to me, were they well?--

NEIGHBOUR. Madam, hear me--

CLARISSA. Oh! he will not speak.

NEIGHBOUR. The enemy return'd to the charge, and stumbling o'er the dead and wounded bodies of their friends, Warren received them with indissoluble firmness, and notwithstanding their battalious aspect, in the midst of the battle, tho' surrounded with foes on ev'ry side--

CLARISSA. Oh, my Neighbour!--

NEIGHBOUR. Madam--his nervous arm, like a giant refresh'd with wine, hurl'd destruction where'er he came, breathing heroic ardour to advent'rous deeds, and long time in even scale the battle hung, till at last death turn'd pale and affrighted at the carnage--they ran--

CLARISSA. Who ran?

NEIGHBOUR. The enemy, Madam, gave way--

CLARISSA. Warren never ran--yet--oh! I wou'd he had--I fear--[_Cries._]

NEIGHBOUR. I say not so, Madam.

CLARISSA. What say ye then? he was no coward, Neighbour--

NEIGHBOUR. Brave to the last. [_Aside. I forgot myself._]

CLARISSA. What said you? O Heavens! brave to the last! those words--why do you keep me thus?--cruel--

NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. She will know it._] I say, Madam, by some mistaken orders on our side, the enemy rallied and return'd to the charge with fresh numbers, and your husband, son, and brother--Madam--

CLARISSA. Stop!--O ye powers!--What?--say no more--yet let me hear--keep me not thus--tell me, I charge thee--

NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. I can hold no longer, she must know it._] Forgive me, Madam--I saw them fall--and Michael, the archangel, who vanquish'd Satan, is not more immortal than they. [_Aside. Who can relate such woes without a tear?_],

CLARISSA. Oh! I've heard enough--too--too much [_Cries._] yet--if thou hast worse to tell--say on--nought worse can be--O ye G.o.ds!--cruel--cruel-- thrice cruel--cou'd ye not leave me one--[_She faints, and is caught by her friend, and placed in a chair; he rings the bell, the family come in, and endeavour to bring her to._]

NEIGHBOUR. With surprising fort.i.tude she heard the melancholy relation, until I came to the last close--she then gave me a mournful look, lifted up her eyes, and immediately sunk motionless into my arms.

WOMAN. Poor soul!--no wonder--how I sympathize with her in her distress--my tender bosom can scarcely bear the sight! A dreadful loss!

a most shocking scene it was, that brothers should with brothers war, and in intestine fierce opposition meet, to seek the blood of each other, like dogs for a bare bone, who so oft in generous friendship and commerce join'd, in festivals of love and joy unanimous as the sons of one kind and indulgent father, and separately would freely in a good cause spend their blood and sacrifice their lives for him.

NEIGHBOUR. A terrible black day it was, and ever will be remembered by New-England, when that vile Briton (unworthy the name of a Briton), Lord Boston (curse the name!), whose horrid murders stain American soil with blood; perish his name! a fratricide! 'twas he who fir'd Charlestown, and spread desolation, fire, flames and smoke in ev'ry corner--he was the wretch, that waster of the world, that licens'd robber, that blood-stain'd insulter of a free people, who bears the name of Lord Boston, but from henceforth shall be called Cain, that pillag'd the ruins, and dragg'd and murder'd the infant, the aged and infirm--(But look, she recovers.)

CLARISSA. O ye angels! ye cherubims and seraphims! waft their souls to bliss, bathe their wounds with angelic balsam, and crown them with immortality. A faithful, loving and beloved husband, a promising and filial son, a tender and affectionate brother: Alas! what a loss!--Whom have I now to comfort me?--What have I left, but the voice of lamentation: [_She weeps._] Ill-fated bullets--these tears shall sustain me--yes, ye dear friends! how gladly wou'd I follow you--but alas! I must still endure tribulation and inquietudes, from which you are now exempt; I cannot cease to weep, ye brave men, I will mourn your fall--weep on--flow, mine eyes, and wash away their blood, till the fountain of sorrow is dried up--but, oh! it never--never will--my sympathetic soul shall dwell on your bosoms, and floods of tears shall water your graves; and since all other comfort is deny'd me, deprive me not of the only consolation left me of meditating on your virtues and dear memories, who fell in defense of liberty and your country--ye brave men--ye more than friends--ye martyrs to liberty!--This, this is all I ask, till sorrow overwhelms me.--I breathe my last; and ye yourselves, your own bright spirits, come and waft me to your peaceful abode, where the voice of lamentation is not heard, neither shall we know any more what it is to separate.

_Eager the patriot meets his desperate foe With full intent to give the fatal blow; The cause he fights for animates him high, His wife, his children and his liberty: For these he conquers, or more bravely dies, And yields himself a willing sacrifice._

[_Exeunt._

ACT IV.

SCENE I. _Near Norfolk, in Virginia, on board a man-of-war, LORD KIDNAPPER, in the state-room; a boat appears rowing towards the ship._