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Bteps of earth in the redoubt to take aim, fought according to his own judgment and will; and a close and unremitting fire was continued and returned, till the British staggered, wavered, and then in disordered masses retreated precipi5 tately to the foot of the hill, and some even to their boats. The column of the enemy which advanced near the Mystic 0 under the lead of Howe, moved gallantly forward against the rail-fence, and when within eighty or one hundred yards, displayed into line, with the precision of troops
10 on parade. Here, too, the Americans, commanded by Stark and Knowlton, cheered on by Putnam, who like Prescott bade them reserve their fire, restrained themselves as if by universal consent, till at the proper moment, resting their guns on the rails of the fence, they poured forth a delib
15 erate, well-directed, fatal discharge. Here, too, the British recoiled from the volley, and after a short contest, were thrown into confusion, and fell back till they were covered by the ground.
Then followed moments of joy in that unfinished redoubt,
20 and behind the grassy rampart, where New England husbandmen, so often taunted with cowardice, beheld veteran battalions shrink before their arms. Their hearts bounded as they congratulated each other. The night-watches, thirst, hunger, danger, whether of captivity or death, were
25 forgotten. They promised themselves victory.
As the British soldiers retreated, the officers were seen by the spectators on the opposite shore, running down to them, using passionate gestures, and pushing them forward with their swords. After an interval of about fifteen minutes,
30 during which Prescott moved round among his men, encouv ,-aging them and cheering them with praise, the British column under Pigot rallied and advanced, though witfr . apparent reluctance, in the same order as before, firing as they approached within musket shot. This time the Araer
"*5 icans withheld their fire till the enemy were within six
* A small stream entering into Boston Harbor near Bunker II ill.
or five rods of the redoubt, when, as the order was given, it seemed more fatal than before. The enemy continued to discharge their guns, and pressed forward with spirit. "But from the whole American line, there was," said Pres5 cott, " a continuous stream of fire," and though the British officers were seen exposing themselves fearlessly, remonstrating, threatening, and even striking the soldiers to urge them on, they could not reach the redoubt, but in a few moments gave way in greater disorder than before. The 10 wounded and the dead covered the ground in front of the works, some lying within a few yards of them.
On the flank, also, the British light infantry again marched up its companies against the grass fence, but could not penetrate it. "Indeed," wrote some of the survivors,
''• '• how could we penetrate it? Most of our grenadiers and light infantry, the moment of presenting themselves, lost three fourths, and many, nine tenths of their men. Some had only eight or nine men in a company left, some only three, four, or five." On the ground where but the day
20 before the mowers had swung the scythe in peace, "the dead," relates Stark, "lay as thick as sheep in a fold." Howe, for a few seconds, was left nearly alone, so many of the officers about him having been killed or wounded; and it required the utmost exertion of all, from the generals
25 down to the subalterns, to repair the rout.
At intervals the artillery from the ships and batteries was playing, while the flames were rising over the town of Charlestown, and laying waste the places of the sepulchres of its fathers, and streets were falling together, and ships
20 at the yards were crashing on the stocks, and the kindred of the Americans, from the fields and hills around, watched every gallant act of their defenders. "The whole," wrote Burgoyne, "was a complication of horror and importance beyond anything it ever came to my lot to be witness
55 to. It was a sight for a young soldier, that the longest service may not furnish again."
"If we drive them back once more," cried Prescott, "they cannot rally again." To the enduring husbandmen about him, the terrible and appalling scene was altogether new. "We are ready for the red-coats again," they shouted, 5 cheering their commander, and not one of them shrunk from duty.
LV.—WARREN'S ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTIB OF BUNKER HILL.
1 Stand! the ground's your own, my bravea
Hope ye mercy still?
Ask it— ye who will.
2 Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
And, before you, see
Let their welcome be!
8 In the God of battles trust!
Be consigned so well,
"samuel Rogers was born at Newington Green, near London, July 30, 1763, and died December 18,1855. In 1792, he published his "Pleasures of Memory," a poem which gave him an honorable and enduring place among the poets of his country. His subsequent productions, which are not very numerous, cannot be said to have added materially to his reputation. His poetry is marked by the careful finish and grace of patient elaboration.
The following extract is from "Italy," a poem published in 1822, consisting of sketches of Italian scenery, manners, and history. Modon:i is a town in the northern part of Italy. Here is kept an old worm-eaten bucket, said to have been taken from the Bolognese by the Ilodenese, in a fight in the thirteenth century. This trophy forms the subject of a mock-heroic poem, called "The Rape of the Bucket," by Tassoni, an Italian poet of the sixteenth century. Zampieri was a celebrated painter of Bologna, (Bo-lon'yii,) mor« generally known by his first name, Domenichino, (Do-ma-ne-ke'-no,) or Uomenlco, (Dv-matae-co).]
1 If ever you should come to Modena,0
Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
2 'T is of a lady in her earliest youth,
Done by Zampieri f — but by whom I care not.
3 She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
An emerald stone in every golden clasp;
4 But then her face,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart— It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody!
5 Alone it hangs
Over a mouldering heirloom, its companion,
6 She was an only child — her name Ginevra,
7 Just as she looks there in her bridal dress,
Her pranks the favorite theme of every tongue.
• Antonio da Trcnto, a celebrated wood engraver, was born at Trent, In the Venetian States, about 1508.