Chapter Poetry of The Revolution of Index by Simonds History of American Literature

frequently broke forth in trenchant satire and clever verse. In The Battle of the Kegs, his irrepressible wit runs merry riot. The incident which inspired the ballad belongs to the beginning of 1778. Some Yankee inventor having constructed a sort of infernal machine for the purpose, a lot of kegs were equipped with the mechanism and charged with powder; these kegs were then sent floating down the Delaware toward Philadelphia, where the British force under Howe was quartered for the winter. Whether actually dangerous or not, these suspicious-looking kegs caused great excitement as they came floating by the city and provoked a general bombardment from ships and garrison. No harm resulted to the English from this fleet of Yankee invention, but Hopkinson's doggerel rhymes which followed appear to have had a most beneficent effect upon the Continentals. The ballad proved to be the most popular composition of the war period, and its influence is thus described by Tyler: --

"It gave the weary and anxious people the luxury of genuine and hearty laughter in very scorn of the enemy. To the cause of the Revolution it was perhaps worth as much, just then, by way of emotional tonic and of military inspiration as the winning of a considerable battle would have been."¹

Francis Hopkinson's impassioned Camp Ballad (1777) exhibits the real lyric power of the poet in his serious mood. Columbia, written by Timothy Dwight, belongs to the same group of patriotic lyrics. Dwight's poem begins with the lines:--

"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."

It is not to be confused with the national song Hail Columbia, which was written by Joseph Hopkinson (not Francis) in 1798. If popularity were a standard of excellence, these fervid compositions, along with The Battle of the Kegs and The Yankee's Return from Camp ("Yankee Doodle"), would have to represent the poetic accomplishment of our Revolutionary poets; happily this is not the case. Bold Hathorne, the Surgeon's record of the cruise of the "Fair American," Captain Hathorne, 1777, has the homely flavor of an honest folk-song, and so has the ballad of Brave Paulding and the Spy, which celebrates the patriotic integrity of the captor of Major André; but the best of all these patriotic compositions is one entitled Hale in the Bush, a wonderfully tender and impressive tribute to the memory of Nathan Hale, captured and hanged by the British as a spy. This remarkable poem merits quotation in full.

HALE IN THE BUSH

The breezes went steadily through the tall pines,
A-saying "oh! hu-ush!" a-saying "oh! hu-ush!"
As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse,
For Hale in the bush, for Hale in the bush.

"Keep still!" said the thrush, as she nestled her young
In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road.
"For the tyrants are near, and with them appear
What bodes us no good, what bodes us no good."

The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home
In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook.
With mother and sister and memories dear,
he so gaily forsook, he so gaily forsook.

Cooling shades of the night were coming apace,
The tattoo had beat, the tattoo had beat;
The noble one sprang from his dark lurking place,
To make his retreat, to make his retreat.

He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves,
As he passed through the wood, as he passed through the wood;
And silently gained his rude launch on the shore,
As she played with the flood, as she played with the flood.

The guards of the camp on that dark dreary night,
Had a murderous will, had a murderous will;
They took him and bore him after from the shore,
To a hut on the hill, to a hut on the hill.

No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer,
In that little stone cell, in that little stone cell;
But he trusted in love from his Father above --
In his heart all was well, in his heart all was well.

An ominous owl with his solemn bass voice,
Sat moaning hard by, sat moaning hard by:
"The tyrant's proud minions most gladly rejoice,
For he must soon die, for he must soon die."

The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrained,--
The cruel general! the cruel general!--
His errand from camp, of the ends to be gained,
And said that was all, and said that was all.

They took him and bound him and bore him away,
Down the hill's grassy side, down the hill's grassy side.
'T was there the base hirelings, in royal array,
His cause did deride, his cause did deride.

Five minutes were given, short moments, no more,
For him to repent, for him to repent.
He prayed for his mother -- he asked not another, --
To Heaven he went, to Heaven he went.

The faith of a martyr the tragedy showed,
As he trod the last stage, as he trod the last stage.
And Britons will shudder