Acasto

And he demands our lay who bravely fell By Monangahela and the Ohio's stream; By wiles o'ercome the hapless hero fell, His soul too gen'rous for that dastard crew Who kill unseen and shun the face of day. Ambush'd in wood, and swamp and thick grown hill, The bellowing tribes brought on the savage war. What could avail, O Braddock, then the flame, The gen'rous flame which fir'd thy martial soul! What could avail Britannia's warlike troops, Choice spirits of her isle? What could avail America's own sons? The skulking foe, Hid in the forest lay and fought secure, What could the brave Virginians do, o'erpower'd By such vast numbers and their leader dead? 'Midst fire and death they bore him from the field, Where in his blood full many a hero lay. 'Twas there, O Halkut! thou so nobly fell, Thrice valiant Halkut, early son of fame! We still deplore a face so immature, Fair Albion mourns thy unsuccessful end, And Caledonia sheds a tear for him Who led the bravest of her sons to war.