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THE Conquest of LOUISBOURG: A POEM.
By JOHN MAYLEM, Philo-Bellum.
BOSTON, N.E. Printed in the Year. 1758.
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The Argument.
INvocation—Begins [in the Year 1753] with the Cause of the War, the Depredations and Hostilities of the Indians, in the profound of Peace, thro' the French Instigation—touching upon the Miscarriage of our Arms in America, which excite his Britannic Majesty to a just Sense of the imminent Danger his American Empire is threatened with; who summons a Parliament, and Mr. Secretary Pitt — describes the deplorable Situation of Affairs in that Part of the World — Mr. Secretary Pitt's Address, imploring his Majesty's Royal Order — Who declares the French Perfidy, exciting them to Revenge — And proposes an immediate Descent upon the Island of Cape-Breton, with a strong Fleet, and sufficient Land-Army, under the Command of Admiral Boscawen, and General Amhurst, whom [by Mr. Pitt's Advice] he recommends to his Parliament, which is approv'd of, with all the Demonstration of Joy and Satisfaction—the Fleet consisting of twenty four Ships of War (exclusive of near One Hundred & forty Sail of Transports) Rendezvous at Plymouth, from whence they embark with twelve Thousand Land Forces for Halifax, where they are join'd by General Lawrence with six Thousand Aids, who all embark for Cape-Breton, arrive there [May 1758] in six Days, land their Troops, (of which eighteen are drowned) and drive the Enemy from the Shore — General Amhurst marches to the Attack of their Advance Battery; and after a sharp Conflict drives them to the City — [Page ii]The intrepid Valour and Prowess of Amhurst, Wolf, Whitmore, Lawrence, Frazer, & Scott—Their several Actions in that Heroic Enterprize—The General opens his Lines, and begins the Seige—In the mean Tims Boscawen, Hardy, and Durell, Bombard and Cannonade the Enemy from their Fleet— A Bomb thrown from the English, falls on the French Admiral's Ship, and destroys her — The Enemy seiz'd with Despair, sink two of their Ships — The Horror of a Seige describ'd — Forty Days having elaps'd, and a Breach forc'd in their Walls, they Capitulate Prisoners of War—but by the Admiral are sent to France (except their regular Troops) Brigadier Monckton, goes on Command to St. John's River, and returns from his Expedition with Success—which concludes the Poem—
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The Conquest of LOUISBOURG.
NOT to Aonian Spring, Parnasian Mount,
Fam'd Helicon, nor Aganippaes Fount,
For fancy'd Fire, I aim the wonted Flight,
Nor yet explore Olympus craggy height:
Where fabled GODS in fam'd Assembly meet,
Self-pois'd the Globe, an Atom at their Feet—
But to th' empyreal Throne, for solid Rhime,
Address the Universal Cause sublime—
O GOD! Immortal Deity — Supreme!
Father of Goodness! deign a heav'nly gleam.
Me with celestial Ray benign inspire,
And thro' each Vein diffuse poetic Fire!
AEther'al Vigour in each Line display,
While I the Man and glitt'ring Arms essay:
Since Thou great Parent deign'd paternal Aid,
And terrible thy mighty Pow'r display'd.
Horoic Verse to noble Deeds belong
Arms and the Hero claim immortal Song.
[Page 2] These I attempt—but first the mighty Cause
And bold Infringer of establish'd Laws—
How violate so beautiful a Plan!
The Peace of Nature, and the Tie of Man—
In that warm Season of the rolling Year,
When Fields begin fresh Livery to wear,
And the gay Meads display their varied hue,
With all Green-Nature open to the view;
'Twas then the winding Maze of vernal Trees
Deign'd a safe Covert, and benignant Breeze,
To the fell Savage; who in skulking mood
Rang'd the vast Circuit of eternal Wood,
Thro' the Meanders of the Forest scour,
And the long-winding Labyrinth explore:
And the long-winding Labyrinth explore:
By Gallia won to fell Canadian Rage
With murd'rous Shaft, to horrid Deeds engage.
Nor Frontier Village, Garrison, or Seat,
But a dire Ravage, or Destruction meet.
Where Fathers stabb'd, and Mothers in Despair,
With piteous Shrieks, and Cries afflict the Air,
The Brother and fond Sister meet in Death,
And hapless Babes resign their Infant Breath.
Stupendous Malice, and amazing Ill!
Black as Damnation, or their native Hell!
[Page 3] Thus long young Albion knew oppressive Weignt,
And felt each fad vicissitude of Fate.
With all Columbia constant in Alarms,
While partial Fortune aids the Gallic Arms.
Tho' kind Britannia her Assistance lends,
Yet sad Defeat on sad Defeat attends,
(Save that fair Fortress and important Town,
Which brave young MONCKTON on Acadia won)
But yet not here to dwell—Ye Scenes away
And on my Muse, to sing the genial Ray,
And brighter Sun-shine of th' avenging Day.
Illustrious GEORGE! (revere the sacred Name!)
Hanover's darling, and Britannia's fame,
To Him the News of our impending Fate,
The Rumours of diurnal Hours relate.
His mighty Soul the teeming Ill invades,
And now in deep Concern he pensive treads,
The spacious Parlour, studious of the Theme,
And the deep Project of a weighty Scheme.
Till ev'ning Dusk his Hours of study close,
And the late Minutes call him to repose—
If it repose be call'd—All Night he lay,
By anxious Care opprest, till gleam of Day,
[Page 4] When from his Bed the tho'tful Monarch rose
(Tho'tful—but yet his Mind not discompose,
But such as might proceed from patriot Zeal
Or such as Parents for their Children feel)
Summon'd his noble Peers and
* trusty Sage,
T' impart his Care, and every Grief asswage;
Whose loyal Hearts the Fiat quick obey,
And to their Sovereign explore the Way.
In Majesty, high on his royal Throne,
Like Jove who whilom on Olympus shone,
So shon he; throng'd by Sages in the Dome,
Like the fam'd Senate of Imperial Rome.
To whom he thus—Best Partners of each though
That sway my Soul: This Juncture have I sought,
My anxious Breast t' unbosom, and disclose
What sure must rouse us from our dull repose.
At which they all attent—he thus proceeds—
O Peers and Sages! know your Country bleeds—
Four rolling Winters count four rolling Years,
Since perjur'd Gaul commenc'd her hostile jars;
While loud Reports (ill-boding) from afar,
Speak them our Rivals in the Scene of War.
The savage Brood, induc'd by Gallia's Sons,
Depopulate our Villages and Towns.
[Page 5] Blood, Murder, Devastation, Rape, attend
The endless ravage of a hellish Fiend.
If we to stop this Scene of Death delay,
We lose our Empire in America!
Here stop'd a while—As yet no one had spoke,
Then rose a Sage; And thus the Silence broke.
Dread Sovereign Liege! may the Almighty Pow'r
On you and your's his daily Blessings show'r!
This now emergent Crisis we'll embrace,
That loyal ACTION our Devotion grace.
Tis true, dread Sir, designing France, it seems
Are still debating on politic Schemes.
But first submiss—implore your royal Care
And sage Opinion in the grand Affair—
Here ended—thus his Majesty agen
Peers, Counsellors, and Sages—listen then—
Since every corresponding Fact agree
To urge the Glare of Gallic Perfidy,
For swift Revenge, and Arms and double War,
Conclude that we immediately prepare.
He said, with Complacence— While graceful hung
The dying Accent on his sacred Tongue.
When in the Dome, no more a solemn Pause,
But catching Murmurs echo his Applause:
[Page 6] At which in sage Address he further spake,
And thus the buzzing Whisper gently brake.
O Britons Arm, and urge your future good,
Flush in your Cheeks, I see the British Blood,
And Gallia's Sons shall weep a Tyrian Flood.
Since your just Rights and Liberties you claim
Your Admiral, and General I name,
BOSCAWEN, valiant, generous, prudent, wise,
And AMHURST—second in the Enterprise—
Twice twelve tall Ships, equip with teeming Fate,
And the just Veng'ance of an injur'd State.
Cursh that imperious Town, which owes its Fame
To it's last Ruin, more than Louis' Name.
Swift o'er their perjur'd Heads, your Thunder roll
'Till the loud echo peal from Pole to Pole.
So spake the Hero; who at once did prove
His Sov'reign Duty, and a Parent Love.
Each conscious Breast the noble Fiat warms,
And the rous'd Lion grumbles out to Arms.
Arms and Revenge ring thro' the spacious Dome,
While each glad Anthem, waits the Monarch home.
And now the Drums beat up, and now appears
With Hearts elate twelve Thousand Voluntiers.
[Page 7] Fir'd with Ambition in their Country's Cause,
Resolv'd to purchase Fame, and loud Applause,
The ample Sea-Ports, each assiduous Man
Their floating Bulwarks for the mighty Plan.
The gather'd Navy, glorious in her Pride,
In Plymouth's safe capacious Harbour ride.
Till the fair Summons of a genial Breeze,
Call forth to weigh, and cut the briny Seas.
Then for Cape-Breton the Atlantic plow,
While Joy sat smiling on each martial Brow,
Urge their swist Passage thro' the liquid green,
Till all Britannia sinks behind the Scene.
The dancing Castles, fann'd by easy Gales,
Hide half the Circuit with their Canvas Sails.
Thus forty Days the yielding Deep explore
And reach at length, Acadia's distant Shore;
Where generous LAWRENCE, with propitious Sway,
Harmonious, rules in Peace the genial Day;
Whose fair Metropolis, and growing Town,
By Halifax in Nova-Scotia's known.
To a safe Harbour, bids the welcome Fleet,
And hails the Heroes to his ample Seat.
A spacious Bason now the Fleet immure
Where the tall Navy rendezvous secure.
[Page 8] NOW LAWRENCE, fir'd to Arm, and dread exploit,
With great BOSCAWEN, takes his eager Lot.
Six Thousand Aids, recruit their ample Force,
Then Re-embark, and shape their wonted Course
To that strong Citadel which Fame reports,
Impenetrable to the last Efforts.
Six Days their destin'd Way elate pursue,
Till all Cape-Breton opens to the View.
Like ancient Ilium which Achilles won,
Seem'd the high Bastions of the haughty Town.
Then dis-embark their Troops—who from each Boat
Leap'd in the Water, e'er to Land they got.
Unmindful of the Surges' foaming roar,
Or threatning Voice—but waded to the Shore.
(Tho' eighteen Heroes found a Liquid Grave,
In the deep Bosom of a gaping Wave.)
Then with dread prowess, their Opponents charge,
And with dire Slaughter, beat them from the Verge.
See AMHURST now his warlike Squadrons range,
Portending dreadful Death, and loud Revenge.
Forms his fierce Legions in embattled Ranks
With Van and Rear-Guard, and important Flanks—
Then at their Head heroic and serene,
March'd like young Scipio to a bloodier Scene,
[Page 9] To a high Battery, or winding Length,
Of double Embrasures, of double Strength,
Whose mighty Walls the Enemy immure,
And the long Trenches, aid their great Secure.
Now o'er the Heath his brave Myrmidons leads
While the shrill Music founds to noble Deeds,
And the warm Sun-beams on their Fire-locks play,
Strike off in Spires, and aid the blaze of Day.
A gen'ral halt ensues—nor yet the Van
Had the fierce Onset of Attack began,
Six Deep the Front a martial Grace disclose
That dar'd the Thunder of their Gallic Foes.
But lo! while ready for the Charge they stood,
Death, Blunderbuss, Artillery, and Blood!
Blue Smoke, and purple Flame, around appear,
And the hot Bullets hail from Front to Rear.
Tremendous Fate by Turns incessant flies,
While the black Sulphur cloud the azure Skies.
And ghastly Savages, with fearful yell,
Invoke their Kindred of profoundest Hell.
Whose hoarse shrill powaws valiant AMHURST scorns,
And roars loud Thunder from his dread Cohorns.
Now, dire Confusions on Confusions rife,
And the deep conflict aids the mighty Noise.
[Page 10] From Hills of Smoke see Spire ascend on Spire,
And AMHURST there invelop'd all in Fire.
With his drawn Sabre from a livid Cloud,
With teeming Death, emerging like a God!
Ten thousand Beams spire from the flaming Steel,
And Gallia's Sons his weighty Prowess feel.
Now the vast Tumult wakes the drowsy Gods,
Who all look down to see the mighty odds.
When AMHURST there like Peleus mighty Son,
Dreadful in Arms and Tyrian Scarlet shone,
Engaging here, in martial Order stood
Fierce as Alcides or the Scythian God;
Till thundring Mars, no more the Sight could bear,
Turn'd pale with Envy, and let drop his Spear,
And Fame all flaming from the imperial Car,
Hail'd him sole Rival of the God of War.
'Twas such inspir'd immortal
Maro's Tongue,
When Ilium's Fate, "Arms and the Man" he sung.
Thus the long Conflict, undecided held,
And each fierce Veteran maintain'd the Field.
The conscious Hero, tho'tful of our Good,
Fierce in the Van, bespatter'd o'er with Blood,
With Mein majestic, thrice his Sabre shook,
Thrice wav'd his Arm, and thus, heroic, spoke—
[Page 11] Intrepid Heroes—Britains loyal Band!
Who valiant fought on this important Land,
In equal Poise of this exploit th' Event
As yet hangs dubious—You fatigu'd and spent,
Like valiant Boys, give three Huzza's and rush
Victorious on—and give a final push.
He said. And swift as the revolving Sun,
Drove rapid thro', and urg'd his Passage on;
While mighty WOLF, in terrible array,
With dreadful Phalanx, change the Face of Day;
There sable Chiefs, and Gallic Heroes yield,
* "And vital Carnage spread the ample Field!"
See! WHET MORE yonder (moving o'er the Heath)
Makes it one sad continued Scene of Death.
Or, bending Victor o'er the ample Soil,
Reaps a huge Conquest with Herculean Toil.
With LAWRENCE there—whose gen'rous bosom warms,
And like Ascanius their Enclosure storms.
Of the deep Trenches quick essays the Verge,
And deals wide Slaughter with a heavy Charge.
Intrepid FRAZER rush's impetuous on,
Whose weilding Broad-Sword flames a circling Sun.
And
Highland Heroes charge their double Flanks,
Attack whole Squadrons, and enclose their Ranks.
[Page 12] And SCOTT with Ardour penetrates the Wood,
And sable Warriors weep a vital Flood;
So a young Lion with amazing dread,
Straws the green Covert with the passive Dead.
Now Sword to Sword, and Clash to Clash oppose,
Such the fierce Prowess of determin'd Foes.
And Bayonet to Bayonet engage,
With tenfold Vigour, and redoubled Rage.
A nobler Emulation ne'er was known,
Nor British Valour ever better shown.
'Till forc'd by Fate, the Gallic Bands retreat,
'Twas Britons only, could have urg'd the Feat.
On every Side the hardy Legions pour,
And their strong Works, and Magazines explore.
Twelve Furlongs off—their grand Assylum take,
In a huge City which Defiance spake.
Where mighty Ships, in daring Pomp and Pride,
Secure in their capacious Harbour ride.
Nor greater Force could haughty Louis boast,
On the long Borders of his ancient Coast.
Mean while BOSCAWEN lands destructive Aid:
Bombs, Mortars, Cannon, gloriously display'd,
In close Employ the Veterans engage,
For the dread Apparatus of a Seige.
[Page 13] Oppos'd to where, their fam'd Assylum stood,
Was a fair Rising by a Neighb'ring Wood,
An easy Eminence, whose Top accline,
To their strong Ramparts bore a level Line.
To this grand Object of their martial Scenes,
Thro' fierce Encounters move the huge Machines.
Now WOLF's long Trenches, and Fascines appear,
And conquer'd Batt'ries, ope each Embrazure,
With horrid Mortars gaping on their Tier.
And the fix'd Cannon point their fatal Maws,
While Peals of Thunder issue from their Jaws.
BOSCAWEN now his naval Vengeance hurls,
And Clouds of Sulphur fleet away in curls.
Intrepid HARDY from his floating Force,
Wings Fate on Fate, with an incessant Course.
And brave DURELL his keen Combustions throw,
While Shells or break above, or burst below.
Thus long the Sun, in his diurnal Race,
Saw the dire Conflict from his radiant Space:
When now a Bomb of huge Diameter,
From a vast Mortar, flam'd a livid Sphere.
With dire Combustion fill'd, and Death innate,
The last sad prelude to their final Fate!
[Page 14] Aloft in Ambient Aether now it spires,
Strikes on the Sun-beams, interchanging Fires;
Now prone inclines in terrible display,
Like the last Comet at the Judgment Day.
On the French Admiral, tremendous cracks,
And swift as Lightning drops beneath the Decks:
Nor sooner entred, but the Brains and Blood
Flew round the Room—nor to th' eternal GOD!
Had Time their Pray'rs to send for future Good.
Arms, Trunks, and Legs, in wild Disorder lie,
And the green Harbour drinks the vital die.
The Hero here, distort from human Plan,
'Tis scarcely known—he ever was a Man—
Now all the Symptoms of Despair and Rage,
With ev'ry Passion in their Soul's engage.
Two of their mighty Ships they sink below,
And dare the Terror of a British Foe.
Mean while alternate Death's promiscuous fly,
And the fierce Meteors blaze along the Sky;
Then shiver in the Air, and sudden pour
A Cloud of Atoms, in a Sulphur show'r.
Or in their City wild convulsive burst
Ten thousand Ways, and mingle with the Dust.
[Page 15] A gaping Chasm in their Wall disclose,
The reeking Soldier at his Death-repose.
While Fate in Show'rs of Lead connected rain,
And wing fam'd Heroes to her dark Domain.
The cutting Grape-shot spatter o'er the Heath,
And the fierce Langrel aid the glare of Death.
In such sad Scenes alternately involv'd,
Till one fair Season half her Course dissolv'd.
Too much the odds—the Gallic Ensigns struck,
By all their patron Images forsook,
With drooping Flag and solemn Pace advance,
Their Courage faints, nor more can stand the Chance.
The last sad Purpose of their Soul's impart,
And claim the Mercy of a British Heart.
The gen'rous Heroes, fir'd with manly Grief,
Nor hear them twice, implore a kind Relief:
But waft them to their ancient Mother Shoar,
Tho' at their Option, Prisoners of War.
Three Cheers ensue—then thrice the glad Parole,
BOSCAWEN, AMHURST, and a British Soul.
While MONCKTON, his late Conquest to secure,
O'er all Accadia takes his eager Tour,
Hunts the black Savage from the Covert brake,
Who a last Farewell of their Eden take.
[Page 16] Thus blest by Heav'n in an important Hour,
A spacious Region owns the British Pow'r.
Now a smooth Surface all along is seen,
And the white Tents harmonious intervene.
A fair Encampment open to the view,
With gay Decorum to enhance the Shew.
Like social Heroes pass the Hours away,
Till
[...] Duty urge them for the Day.