SIR JOHN the second’s mighty deeds, “ the spring
Of woes to others, Heavenly Goddess, sing.”
Deeds which produced a Fort’s untimely fall,
Where one promiscuous ruin buried all :
Where wretched mother, brother, sister, sire ; 5
Were slain, and thrown into one common fire.
* [Footnote:] This parody on the first lines of the Iliad, is thought by the author to be a master stroke—for had Achilles and Sir John lived in the same age, it would have placed the Divine Homer in the celebrated dilemma of an Ass between two hay-stacks—He could not have chosen his hero.
Roused by a zeal which fertile lands inflame,
And vainly hoping for a warlike name,
John calls his troops around, declares a foe
Was gone, or would to Pensacola go ; 10
Where powder he’d procure, and arms and lead,
And swift destruction on our frontier spread.
[Footnote 2] The Alabama lands.
“Is any here,” he cries, “afraid to go ;
“ A pale-faced wretch, who’d shun a Savage foe?
“ Let him remain behind, while we, the brave, 15
“ Will instant march, and our lov’d country save.”
Encouraged thus, the troops with loud huzzas,
Prepare to march, to aid their country’s cause.
Some arm’d with rifles, some with swords appear,
Some wield a tommahawk, and some a spear. 20
In John’s wild motion, and disorder’d §mein,
A war ’twixt pride, and cowardice, is seen !
“ Dispatches” numerous he attempts to write,
But scarce a line, consistent, can indite.
At length a tommahawk, and shirt he’d buy, 25
With that to conquer, or in this to die !
In warlike order now, and proud array ;
The troops move on, our Hero leads the way.
Now to the Eastward, led by John they go, §sc on John?
To seek, a combat with the Savage foe. 30
They cross two rivers, and with rapid pace
Push, ardent, on, their Savage foe to trace.
As they advance, John sends out scouts to see,
Or learn, the movements of the enemy :
These soon return, and state that they had found 35
The foe, with packs and horses scatter’d round.
John calls a halt ; the troops obey his voice,
And in the hope of victory, rejoice.
Not so Sir John, his fears suggests his doom,
He sees in prospect, all his woes to come. 40
High on his horse he sits, and thus, aloud ;
A warlike talk addresses to the crowd.
“ Dismount, my gallant heroes, one and all ;
“ And, with loud shouts, upon the Savage fall !
“ Our spies report, o’er all the plain is spread 45
“ Arms, blankets, powder, tommahawks and lead.
“ These shall be yours, with these a warlike name,
“ Secures your Glory in the roll of fame.”
Our Hero ceased, they raise a dreadful cry ;
The Savages, alarmed, promiscuous fly 50
To a thick cane-brake, where, secure from sight,
They hold a council, and resolve to fight.