Fatigued with his victorious toil,
Tis fit he now shoud rest a while,
Diversion taste, and in his Fort
Injoy the pleasures of a Court:
The Rebel-General, with his Tartars,
Escorts him to his Winter-quarters,
And taking a position near him
Affects to show, he does not fear him;
His thirty thousand men, or more,
Besieges, and insults with Four:
His stragling parties he defeats,
Cuts off his Outposts, and Pickets,
Slaughters his foragers, and seizes
The prey, and does just what he pleases,
His army harasses and lessens
Attacking at all times and seasons,
The spirits chears of his own men
And hardens them to fight again
Keeps them employ’d, prevents desertion,
By enterprize and fresh exertion:
And this is Washington’s Diversion.
Howe has no eyes his sport to see
But grants him full impunity,
Or if sometimes perforce he sees it,
He never once returns the visit,
Who by one quarter of his force
Might stop the rash Invader his course
Or take him, while secure he lies
Within his reach and scorns surprize.

But lo! the Spring returning warms
The earth, and calls his host to arms,
When mighty kings go forth to war
And smell the battle from afar:
Why lingers then th’ godlike Man
Immortal fame with spoil to gain?
Glory invites; but softer charms
Detain him in Armida’s arms,
Wasting the time in careless ease
In revels, sports, and wantonness,
In dear, luxurious dissipation,
And doubly dear Procrastination.
What doth our Chief Commander say
For his unsoldierly delay?
“He cannot move, for on the ground
“No forage green is to be found.”
But might he not his steeds supply
With better far, with forage dry?
He might; yet never once appears
In spring, like common Chiefs, but fears
Beginning the campaign too soon,
Or marching to the field, till June,
Since Rebels cannot be prepar’d
Before, to stand upon their guard,
And only baseborn Cowardise
Woud take an Enemy by surprize.
Behold the Champion, rous’d at last
(More than the vernal Season past)
Goes out with twenty thousand men,
And, Louis like, goes back again:
But first he boldly reconnoiters,
Demurs, and hesitates, and loiters,
Loth to compel a weaker foe
To fight, whether he will or no.

Washington in his quarters lay,
But kept our General at a bay,
Watch’d all his motions, and lay still
Safe as a thief within a mill,
Safe—at the mercy of his foe,
For Howe, he knew, woud mercy show
Nor force his trenches, or devour
An Handful always in his power.
Between two mighty rivers pent,
With his Antagonist’s consent,
Secure for months he kept his station
Without alarm, or molestation,
Sure, if assaulted to be beat,
Who coud not possibly retreat.
How[e] had a mortgage on his foes,
Which still he scrupled to foreclose,
And spar’d a corresponding brother,
For well they understood each other,
And Washington by instinct knew
What Howe intended not to do,
Or learnt it in a whisper kind
Like sly Sertorius from his Hind.
Howe has it in his choice to make
An end of him, by one attack;
Or if he pass the Delaware
He drives the Rebels to despair
Their stores and magazines destroys,
An host of Loyalists employs,
Th’ unguarded Capitol possesses,
And all the war at once suppresses.

But it was never his intent
To please the Tools of Government,
Under his auspices to take,
And conquer, for his Rival’s sake
The Ministry by his successes
Confirming in their envied places,
That They might still direct the helm
Exalt the King and save the Realm.

So when the French were in his power
The Admiral of the Lee-shore,
Refus’d to sink but half their fleet
And lingring, let them all retreat,
Lest Sandwich should the honor share
Or North remain Prime Minister
Or Britain end its “ruinous war.”

Commanded by his King to join
The brave, unfortunate Burgoigne,
(Alone unequal to oppose
Whole armies of surrounding foes)
He flies, impatient of delay,
But turns — and flies another way:
Another way he must be gone,
To seek, and fight with Washington,
The man, already found, to seek
By sailing round the Chesapeak,
To meet the Enemy before
His face, and always in his power:
Whom that he may more soundly beat,
By a precipitate retreat
Out of the Province he withdraws,
As seeming to give up the Cause;
For well he knew, Burgoigne and he,
If join’d, were sure of victory,
And, for the patriots confusion,
Must bring the war to a conclusion,
’Twas better far to sacrifice
A Leader more resolv’d than wise,
Indulge his own malignant hate
And leave our Army to its fate.
His skill and strength at once to show,
And fight in earnest with his foe,
(Yet not by marching a few miles
To save himself the glorious toils,)
He goes, in haste to find him out,
At least one thousand miles about;
In the ships’ holds compact and close,
His soldiers with his horses stows,
(To bring their strength superfluous down,
And broil them in the scorching Sun,
The hottest season of the year)
He tramples on advice and fear,
Defies the waves, and adverse wind,
And leaves his friends and fame behind.
Who can the secret Drift discover
Of such a wonderful manouvre?
Unless he meant, in special grace,
To give the Rebels longer space,
Their ruin’d army to recruit,
And still continue the dispute,
Unless, for patriotic reason
He meant to lose the fighting Season
And confidential friends content
With the disastrous War’s Event.
After three months he lands again
His famish’d steeds and languid men,
Allow’d a fortnight to renew
Their wasted flesh and spirits too
Then leads his hardy veterans on
To fight at last, with Washington
And his redoubled Army found,
But posted now on stronger ground.
What mortal can resist his force,
Or stop the British Hero’s course,
Resistless if he chuse to be,
And mean to gain a victory?
His victory at the Brandywine
Bears witness to the man divine,
Who skilfully surrounds his foes,
Attacks, o’repowers them, and o’rethrows,
Into their thickest woods the chase
Pursues: a general Rout takes place!
Their host in scatter’d parties fly
To reach the nearest towns they try,
If towns protection can afford,
And hide them from the slaughtring sword.
But Howe his character maintains,
And calm, and unconcern’d remains,
With folded hands, and careless ease
The flying Enemy he sees,
And timely stopping the pursuit,
Leaves them to rally and recruit,
Still on the field of battle stays,
And loiters five important days!
Plainly his actions all declare
He does not chuse to end the war
But must, whether he will or no,
If close he press a routed foe,
Whose ruin then must be compleat,
If follow’d after a defeat.
But suffer’d to respire again
Lo! he collects his scatter’d men,
Returning to the field, to feel
If Howe were quite invincible.
Howe sees him rising in his might,
And meditates a second fight,
The fight—and the defeat’s begun;
The Britons shout, the Yankies run!
When Howe suspends his conquering power,
Discourag’d by a sudden shower,
And thro’ the interposing rain
The runaways are sav’d again,
They fly, and fleeter than the wind
Escape; but leave their arms behind.

With valor equally discreet
Again at the White Marsh they meet,
Or might have met, for full three days
They look’d each other in the face;
But neither show’d much appetite
Or passionate desire to fight;
One General, because he coud not
Or’ecome, and one, because he woud not:
So having gain’d their different ends,
They both drew off, and parted friends.
Howe neither woud himself alarm them
Nor yield his Officers shoud harm them
When Yankies from Cornwallis ran
The moment they espied his van:
Not willing to be kill’d, or taken,
They broke the bridge, to save their bacon:
But had not Howe forbid the chase,
In pity of their desperate case,
Himself incautiously confesses,
“They must have all been cut to pieces.”
The Conquer’d his attempts renews,
Sure that the Conqueror ne’er pursues
To Germantown unnoticed flies
By night and takes them by surprize.
What now shall the unguarded brave
From foul defeat and ruin save?
It only can prevented be
By Musgrave’s intrepidity,
Who stems the tide, the fight restores,
Repels, and routs the adverse Powers,
While Howe, the Patron of distress,
Permits them to depart in peace!

Exulting in superior might
Invincible in every fight,
Unrival’d now the Hero reigns,
Lord of the Pennsylvanian plains;
Or’ejoy’d, the ransom’d people meet,
Transported, their Deliverer greet;
His host abundantly supply,
And with his bravest veterans vie
In England’s cause to live, and die
The loyal Capitol receives
The Man thro’ whom again she lives,
Pleas’d in a thousand ways to prove
Her zeal and loyalty and love,
From an Egyptian yoke set free,
Blest with a taste of liberty,
And trusting soon to see take place
Plenty, and peace and halcyon days.