ust be ascribed
to an English army.

But while Great-Britain was thus ignominiously stripping her colonies of
their well earned laurel, and triumphantly weaving it into the
stupendous wreath of her own martial glories, she was unwittingly
teaching them to value themselves, and effectually to resist, in a
future day, her unjust encroachments.

The pitiful tale of taxation now commences--the unhappy quarrel, which
issued in the dismemberment of the British empire, has here its origin.

England, now triumphant over the united powers of France and Spain, is
determined to reduce, to the condition of slaves, her American
subjects.

We might now display the Legislatures of the several States, together
with the general Congress, petitioning, praying, remonstrating; and,
like dutiful subjects, humbly laying their grievances before the throne.
On the other hand, we could exhibit a British Parliament, assiduously
devising means to subjugate America--disdaining our petitions, trampling
on our rights, and menacingly telling us, in language not to be
misunderstood, "Ye shall be slaves!"--We could mention the haughty,
tyrannical, perfidious GAGE, at the head of a standing army; we could
show our brethren attacked and slaughtered at Lexington! our property
plundered and destroyed at Concord! Recollection can still pain us, with
the spiral flames of burning Charleston, the agonizing groans of aged
parents, the shrieks of widows, orphans and infants!--Indelibly
impressed on our memories, still live the dismal scenes of Bunker's
awful mount, the grand theatre of New-England bravery; where _slaughter_
stalked, grimly triumphant! where relentless Britain saw her soldiers,
the unhappy instruments of despotism, fallen, in heaps, beneath the
nervous arm of injured freemen!--There the great WARREN fought, and
there, alas, he fell! Valuing life only as it enabled him to serve his
country, he freely resigned himself, a willing martyr in the cause of
Liberty, and now lies encircled in the arms of glory!

Peace to the patriot's shades--let no rude blast
Disturb the willow, that nods o'er his tomb.
Let orphan tears bedew his sacred urn,
And fame's loud trump proclaim the heroe's name,
Far as the circuit of the spheres extends.

But, haughty Albion, thy reign shall soon be over,--thou shalt triumph
no longer! thine empire already reels and totters! thy laurels even now
begin to wither, and thy fame decays! Thou hast, at length, rous