Brave WASHINGTON did come To our relief; He left his native home, Filled with grief, He did not covet gain, The cause he would maintain And die among the slain Rather than flee. His bosom glow'd with love For liberty, His passions much did move To orphans' cry, He let proud tyrants know, How far their bounds should go And then his bombs did throw Into their den. This frighted them full sore When bombs were sent, When cannon loud did roar They left each tent: Oh! thus did the tyrants fly, Went precipitately, Their shipping being nigh, They sailed off. And now Boston is free From tyrants base, The sons of liberty Possess the place; They now in safety dwell. Free from those brutes of hell, Their raptur'd tongues do tell Their joys great. A portion of the British fleet remained in Boston harbor, and apprehensions began to be felt that an effort would be made to recapture the town. It was at this juncture that Captain James Mugford, of the schooner Franklin, captured the British ship Hope, bound for Boston with supplies and fifteen hundred barrels of powder. Two days later, on May 19, the Franklin ran aground at Point Shirley, at the mouth of the harbor, and was at once attacked by boats from the British vessels. A sharp engagement ensued, in which Mugford was killed. His last words are said to have been those used by Lawrence nearly forty years later: "Don't give up the ship! You will beat them off!" And they did. MUGFORD'S VICTORY [May 17-19, 1776] Our mother, the pride of us all, She sits on her crags by the shore, And her feet they are wet with the waves Whose foam is as flowers from the graves Of her sons whom she welcomes no more, And who answer no more to her call. Amid weeds and sea-tangle and shells They are buried far down in the deep,-- The deep which they loved to career. Oh, might we awake them from sleep! Oh, might they our voices but hear, And the sound of our holiday bells! Can it be she is thinking of them, Her face is so proud and so still, And her lashes are moistened with tears? Ho, little ones! pluck at her hem, Her lap with your jollity fill, And ask of her thoughts and her fears. "Fears!"--we have roused her at last; See! her lips part with a smile, And laughter breaks forth from her eyes,-- "Fears! whence should they ever arise In our hearts, O my children, the while We can remember the past? "Can remember that morning of May, When Mugford went forth with his men, Twenty, and all of them ours. 'Tis a hundred years to a day, And the sea and the shore are as then, And as bright are the grass and the flowers; But our twenty--they come not again!