Burgoyne. LET those, who will, be proud and sneer, And call you an unwelcome peer, But I am glad to see you here: The prince that fills the British throne, Unless successful, honours none; Poor Jack Burgoyne! -- you're not alone. Cornwallis. Thy ships, De Grasse, have caused my grief -- To rebel shores and their relief There never came a luckier chief: In fame's black page it shall be read, By Gallic arms my soldiers bled -- The rebels thine in triumph led. Burgoyne. Our fortunes different forms assume: -- I called and called for elbow-room, 'Till GATES discharged me to my doom; But you, that conquered far and wide, In little York thought fit to hide, The subject ocean at your side. Cornwallis. And yet no force had gained that post -- Not Washington, his country's boast, Nor Rochambeau, with all his host, Nor all the Gallic fleet's parade -- Had Clinton hurried to my aid, And Sammy Graves been not afraid. Burgoyne. For head knocked off, or broken bones, Or mangled corpse, no price atones; Nor all that prattling rumour says, Nor all the piles that art can raise, The poet's or the parson's praise. Cornwallis. Though I am brave, as well as you, Yet still I think your notion true; Dear brother Jack, our toils are o'er -- With foreign conquests plagued no more, We'll stay and guard our native shore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THANKSGIVING TO GOD [FOR HIS HOUSE] by ROBERT HERRICK IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 96 by ALFRED TENNYSON THANKSGIVING DAY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WINTER-SPRING by JOSEPH BEAUMONT AFTER A TEMPEST by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT YESTERDAY by RUTH LASHORNE BUNDY |