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Saratoga, October 13, 1777
BURGOYNE is rushing on in quest of blood, | |
| And Indians shout for victory through the wood, | |
| He solemnly declares, unless we yield, | |
| Horror and death await us in the field. | |
| He sends his bloody flag from house to house; | 5 |
| The mountains travail, and bring forth a mouse. | |
| While thus he threatens ruin to these states, | |
| Behold! here comes the brave heroic Gates. | |
| The gloom dispelled, the light doth now appear, | |
| And shines through all the northern hemisphere; | 10 |
| Our troops collect, and marshal in array, | |
| Complete in arms, their banners they display. | |
| Burgoyne now views them all in arms complete, | |
| Struck with a panic, orders a retreat. | |
| The soldiers trembling, his commands obey, | 15 |
| And he, the most intrepid, leads the way: | |
| Our brave commander then pursues with speed, | |
| Soon overtakes; and numbers lie and bleed; | |
| Our valiant troops inclose Burgoyne around, | |
| And take the best advantage of the ground. | 20 |
| The British hero that appeared so prompt, | |
| Is now enclosed by Yankees in a swamp. | |
| The great Burgoyne is now overwhelmed with grief, | |
| Nor has he any hope to obtain relief; | |
| The rebel army he with scorn defied, | 25 |
| Have him encompassed round on every side. | |
| Alas how great his grief, how ’cute his pain! | |
| How great is his reproach, how great the stain! | |
| Surprising strange! how singular his case! | |
| By rebels close confined in such a place. | 30 |
| One thing especially that makes him mourn, | |
| Great generals and lords that strut and spurn, | |
| Are fond of having room enough to turn. | |
| What seized his soul with horror and surprise, | |
| He expects now soon to fall a sacrifice; | 35 |
| A sacrifice to liberty’s brave sons; | |
| For blood of innocence and dying groans. | |
| His sorrows rise; an overwhelming flood, | |
| Conscience accused, and justice cried for blood. | |
| Whole rivers of such blood could ne’er atone, | 40 |
| For all the horrid murders he had done. | |
| Now thunder-struck, with these ill-boding fates, | |
| Resigns himself and army up to Gates. | |
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