Anon

The following lines were intended to have been delivered by the herald after the knights had approached the pavilion in which were the General and the ladies – holding a laurel wreath in his hand with the following inscription:

"Mars, conquest plum’d, the Cyprian Queen disarms;

And victors, vanquished, yield to beauty’s charms;

But in delicacy to the General, were then suppressed."

The herald was to have hung the crown on the front of the pavilion and then proceed:

"Here, then, the laurel, here the palm we yield,

And all the glories of the tilted field;

Here whites and blacks with blended homage pay

To each device the honor of the day.

Hard were the task, and impious to decide,

Where both are fairest, which the fairer side.

Enough for us if by such sports we strove

To grace this field of military love.

And joining in the wish of every heart,

Honored the friend and leader ere  we part."

"When, great in arms, our brave forefathers rose,

And loos’d the British lion on his foes-

When the fall’n Gauls, then perjured, too, and base,

The faithless fathers of a faithless race;

First to attack, though still the first to yield-

Shrunk from their rage on Poictiers’ laureled field;

Oft, while grim War suspended his alarms,

The gallant bands, with mimic deads of arms,

Thus to some favorite chief the feast decreed,

And deck’d the tilting knight, th’ encountered steed.

In manly sports, that served but to inspire

Contempt of death, and feed the martial fire,

The lists beheld them celebrate his name

Who led their steps to victory and fame.

Through every rank the grateful ardor ran;

All feared the chieftain, but all loved the man;

And, fired with the soul of this bright day,

All paid to Sallisbury what to Howe we pay."

"Shame to the envious slaves that dare bemoan

their sons degenerate or their spirit flown!

Let madd’ning faction drive this guilty land,

With their worst foes, to form the unnatural band.

In yon brave crowd old British courage glows

Unconquered – growing as the danger grows.

With hearts as bold as e’er their fathers bore,

Their country they’ll avenge – her fame restore.

Roused to the charge, methinks I hear them cry,

Revenge and glory sparkling in each eye:

‘Chain’d to our arms while Howe the battle led,

Still round these files their wings shall conquest spread.

Lov’d, though he goes, the spirit still remains

That, with him, bore us o’er these trembling plains.

On Hudson’s banks the sure presage we read

Of other triumphs of our arms decreed.

Nor fear but equal honors shall repay

Each hardy deed where Clinton points the way.’"

Another address written for this occasion, but not spoken, was published in the Foundling Hospital for Wit.  It was intended to have been spoken by a character dressed as "Mercury," or some other mythological character.  The lines are as follows:

"I am from the starry threshold of Jove’s court;

A messenger I come, to grace your sport;

And at your feet th’ immortal wreath I lay,

From chiefs of old renown, who bid me say

Like you they once aspir’d to please the fair

With all the sportive images of war.

Round Arthur’s board, when chivalry was young,

In jousts and tilts their manly nerves they strung,

Scorning to waste the intervals of peace

In sordid riot or inglorious ease.

Martial and bold their exercises were;

Though Gothic, grand: though festive, yet severe;

Design’d to fire the breast to deeds of worth,

And call the impatient soul of glory forth.

"Thus train’s to virtue, when the trumpet’s sound,

And red cross, streaming, led to holy ground,

Or violated rights and Freedom’s call

Bade them chastise the perfidy of Gaul,

Each lover, mindful of his plighted vow,

A hero rose, inflam’d with glorious glow;

The cause of beauty his peculiar care;

His motto still, ‘The brave deserve the fair.’"

                        Air in "Ariaxerxes."

            ‘The soldier, tir’d of war’s alarms,

            Exults to feast on beauty’s charms,

                        And drops the spear and shield;

            But, if the brazon trumpet sound,

            He burns with conquest to be crown’d,

                        And dares again the field.’

"Oh! be the example copied in each heart;

Let modern Britons act the ancient part.

And you, great sir, these parting rites receive,

Which , bathed in tears, your hardy veterans give –

Veterans approv’d, who never knew to yield

When Howe and glory led them to the field.

To other scenes your country’s sacred cause

Now calls you home, the champion of their laws.

Your veterans, to your brave successor true,

By honoring him will seek to honor you."

"And ye, bright nymphs, who grace has hallowed ground,

In all the blooming pride of beauty crown’d.

Still strive to soothe the hero’s generous tolls

With what he deems his best reward – your smiles."