OCCASIONAL POEMS. ELEGY ON THE BURNING OF FAIRFIELD, IN CONNECTICUT. Written in 1779, on the Spot where that Town stood. YE smoking ruins, marks of hostile ire, Ye ashes warm, which drink the tears that flow, Ye desolated plains, my voice inspire, And give soft music to the song of woe. How pleasant, Fairfield, on th' enraptur'd sight At yonder spot where stand the darken'd walls! But there the voice of mirth resounds no more, And hollow chimnies hum with sullen gales→→→ Save where scorch'd elms th' untimely foliage shed, How chang'd the blissful prospect, when compar'd, That impious wretch, with coward voice decreed Vain was the widow's, vain the orphan's cry, To touch his feelings, or to sooth his rageVain the fair drop that roll'd from beauty's eye, Vain the dumb grief of supplicating age. Could Tryon hope to quench the patriot flame, Or make his deeds survive in glory's page? Could Britons seek of savages the fame, Or deem it conquest, thus the war to wage? Yes, Britons! scorn the councils of the skies, Extend wide havock, spurn th' insulted foes; Th' insulted foes to tenfold vengeance rise, Resistance growing as the danger grows. Red in their wounds, and pointing to the plain, Long dusky wreaths of smoke, reluctant driv'n, In black'ning volumes o'er the landscape bend: Here the broad splendour blazes high to heav'n, There umber'd streams in purple pomp ascend. In fiery eddies, round the tott'ring walls, Emitting sparks, the lighter fragments fly; With frightful crash the burning mansion falls, The works of years in glowing embers lie. Tryon, behold thy sanguine flames aspire, Clouds ting'd with dyes intolerable bright; Behold, well pleas'd, the village wrapt in fire; Let one wide ruin glut thy ravish'd sight! Ere fades the grateful scene, indulge thine eye, Go, gaze, enraptur'd with the mother's tear, The infant's terror, and the captive's pain, Where no bold bands can check thy curst career; Mix fire with blood on each unguarded plain! These be thy triumphs! this thy boasted fame! ELEGY ON LIEUTENANT DE HART,* Volunteer Aid to General Wayne. WHEN Autumn, all humid and drear, With darkness and storms in his train, “Near Hudson, a fort, on these banks, "On them iron tempests were hurl’d. "His visage was ghastly in death, "I saw, as he lay on the heath, "In blood, and with dew-drops impearl'd. "How dumb is the tongue that could speak "Whate'er could engage and delight! "How faded the rose on his cheek! *This young warrior was killed in the attack on the block-house, near Fort Lee, 1780. "Those eyes, that illumin'd each soul, "All darken'd to us are now grown: "In far other orbits they roll, "Like stars to new systems when gone, "My brother, the pride of the plain, "In vain did the graces adorn; "His blossom unfolded in vain, "To die like the blossom of morn. "Oh war! thou hast wasted our clime, "Design'd for so early a tomb? "How bright were the prospects that shone! "Their ruin 'tis mine to deplore— "Health, beauty, and youth were his own; "Health, beauty, and youth are no more. "No blessings of nature and art, "Nor music that charm'd in the song, "Nor virtues that glow'd in the heart, "Dear youth, could thy moments prolong! "Thrice six times the spring had renew'd "Ye heroes, to whom he was dear, "Come weep o'er this sorrowful urn, "Come ease the full heart with a tear"My hero will never return: "He died in the dawn of applause, "His country demanded his breath; "Go, heroes, defend the same cause, "Avenge, with your country, his death." So sung on the top of the rocks, The virgin in sorrow more fair; In tears her blue eyes; and her locks Of auburn flew loose in the air. I bade the sweet mourner adieu. AN EPITAPH. ALEXANDER SCAMMEL, and Colonel of the first regiment of New-Hampshire, while he commanded a chosen corps of light infantry, successful siege of York-Town, in Virginia, was, in the gallant performance of his duty, and afterward insidiously wounded; of which wound he expired at Williamsburgh, October, 1781. Anno ætatis.... Though no kind angel glanc'd aside the ball, Which conqu❜ring armies (from their toils return'd) |