But at last the tide turned. In 1757 William Pitt forced his way to the leadership of the government in England, and at once formed a comprehensive plan for a combined attack on the French forts in America. The first point of attack was Louisburg, which had been ceded back to France in 1748, and in the spring of 1758 a strong expedition under Lord Amherst was dispatched against it. The siege commenced June 8--the very day of the disaster at Ticonderoga--and after a tremendous bombardment which destroyed the town and badly breached the fortress, the garrison, numbering nearly six thousand, surrendered July 26, 1758. ON THE LATE SUCCESSFUL EXPEDITION AGAINST LOUISBOURG [July 26, 1758] At length 'tis done, the glorious conflict's done, And British valor hath the conquest won: Success our arms, our heroes, honor crowns, And Louisbourg an English monarch owns! Swift, to the scene where late the valiant fought, Waft me, ye muses, on the wings of thought-- That awful scene where the dread god of war O'er field of death roll'd his triumphant car: There yet, with fancy's eye, methinks I view The pressing throng, the fierce assault renew: With dauntless front advance, and boldly brave The cannon's thunder and th' expecting grave. On yonder cliff, high hanging o'er the deep, Where trembling joy climbs the darksome steep; _Britannia_ lonely sitting, from afar Waits the event, and overlooks the war; Thence, rolls her eager wand'ring eyes about In all the dread anxiety of doubt; Sees her fierce sons, her foes with vengeance smite, Grasp deathless honors, and maintain the fight. Whilst thus her breast alternate passions sway, And hope and fear wear the slow hours away. See! from the realms of everlasting light, A radiant form wings her aerial flight. The palm she carries, and the crown she wears, Plainly denote 'tis _Victory_ appears; Her crimson vestment loosely flows behind, The clouds her chariot, and the wings her wind: Trumpets shrill sounding all around her play, And laurell'd honors gild her azure way-- Now she alights--the trumpets cease to sound, Her presence spreads expecting silence round:-- And thus she speaks; whilst from her heav'nly face Effulgent glories brighten all the place--