Now for three hours they March’d with steady pace, Till they descended to the Mountain’s base. The Column halted--stood in close Array; The Light Troops forward push’d to feel the way. The Muskets’ prittle prattle soon commences, Along the Front, from Ditches, Walls, and Fences. Now, ’scaping from a distant patch of Smoke, Shells from the Frenchmen’s Mortars round them broke. And now their Field-Guns at the Column aiming, Shot, after Shot, in peals of thunder coming. [Illustration: _Smells powder for the first time._] When John this skirmishing did first behold, He thought the Little Light bobs desperate bold. But when stray Bullets whistled by his Ear, John rather shrunk--but ’twas not done through fear; ’Twas his first trial, he could not disguise A natural impulse, taken by surprise. Now Bullets, Balls, and Shells around them flew, As to th’ embattled Foe they nearer drew. Now to its Right the Column did incline,-- Gain’d its Position, forming into Line; With slow, but bold, intrepid pace, advance Amidst the Vollies of the Troops of France. The Battle soon with death-like fury rag’d. John’s mind, his Eye, his every thought engag’d. Around him Slaughter dwelt with ruthless Blow, And Heroes’ blood did in sad torrents flow, When Johnny suddenly receiv’d command, He in his Captain’s place should take his stand. Struck by the fragments of a Broken Shell, Fighting his country’s cause, the Hero fell. Undaunted, undismayed, our gallant John Took the Command, and bravely led them on. And now by British valour close assail’d (For British valour every where prevail’d), Three piercing shouts their Hostile Bands invade, When desperately the British charge was made. O’erthrown, disorder’d, down their arms they threw, Whilst British Victors every where pursue. Thousands lay drench’d in gore upon the plain, Thousands led Captive in the Conqueror’s train. The Battle o’er, the foe now put to flight, Chac’d by the Victors till the close of night. The Gallant Bands to neighbouring heights retire, In groupes collected, nestle round the Fire; The conflicts of the day by turns relate,-- Count o’er the slaughtered, and lament their fate. Stretch’d on the ground, they lay in sound repose, Nor rous’d from slumber, till the Sun arose. With melancholy zeal John bent his way To seek the spot where his brave Captain lay-- Fain would I stop, but truth I must impart, And spread a gloom o’er every British heart; As slow his searching eye survey’d the ground, Bestrew’d with Mangled Carcases around, He saw, when speechless, horror-struck he stood, The naked Body weltering in its Blood.[21] ‘Alas!’ says John, with indignation heated, ‘Is this the way a gallant Hero’s treated?’ And now the Body to the earth he gave, And with a friendly tear bedew’d the Grave. When Johnny did a Letter home Indite, To tell his mother all about the Fight.