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Glass .L, 'OU^ 
 
 Book 
 
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THE BATTLE 
 
 OB 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, 
 
 OR 
 
 GLORY, LOVE AND LOYALTY 
 
 AH 
 
 HISTORICAL AND NATIONAL 
 DRAMA, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY C. E. GRICE, 
 
 ..iulhor of LeonklaSf or the Grecian Father 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent, or the Merchant 
 of Florence ; Fraternal Fends, or the 
 Ladij of the Watch Tower, &c. 
 
 Whenever the independence of a nation is endangered, by fo- 
 reign invasion, " the highest military results" may be expected 
 by a people, who, like the brave Americans, will themselves to be 
 free. G«w. Jackion, 
 
 J\*EW-r<)Ii£ : 
 
 1»RINTB» FOB THE AUTHOR, BY JOHN iOW- 
 
B' 
 
 District of Columbia, to ivit : 
 
 >E if remembered that on the sixteenth day of January, in the 
 • year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixteen, and of the 
 Independence of the United States of America the forty-first, C. E. 
 Ghice, of Washington, in the Diitrict of Columbia, deposited in 
 this Office the title of a Drama, the right whereof he claims as 
 Proprietor in the words following, to wit : 
 
 " TAe BotUe of JVeiv Orleans, or Glury, Love and Loyally; en 
 " Historical avd A'ational Drama, in Jive acts— By C. E. Grice.^^ 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United Statep en- 
 titled " An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing th»' 
 Copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors 
 of such Copies during the times thtrein mentioned ;" and also to 
 an Act entitled " An Act supplementary to an Act entitled " An 
 Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the Copies of 
 Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of «ich 
 Copies, during tlie times therein mentioned," and extending tln' 
 benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching 
 Historical and other Prints." 
 
 In testimony of which, 1 have tiereunto set my hand, and affixed 
 the seal of my Office, the date above mentioned. 
 
 G. DEIN'E.\LE, Clk. Disi. Col. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSON JE. 
 
 Sir Edward Packcaiiam,"! 
 
 General Ke»ne, l^W/id/i Officers. 
 
 General Gibbs, J 
 
 General Jackson, American Commander in Chief. 
 
 General Carrol, 
 
 General Cofioe, 
 
 Bishop of New-Orleans, 
 
 Colonel Oak wood, 
 
 Brien O'Flanegan, 
 
 Melville, senior, 
 
 Edward Oak wood, 
 
 Theodore Melville, 
 
 Louisa, 
 
 Charlotte^ 
 
 CbUd, 
 
 Guards, soldiers, aUendantSt &e. 
 
THE 
 
 BATTLE OF NEWORLEANa 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 ftCENE i — Jl Lihranj — a lahle wilh maps, pa- 
 pers, hooks, &c. — Gen. Jackson and Ed- 
 ward Garwood An orderly in wailing. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Herein I am informed, young soK 
 Jier, (shewing a letter J of your first enterprise in 
 this campaign ; and approve the spirit of the ac- 
 tion. 
 
 Ediv. Your excellency overrates the little claim; 
 I can have to merit in that achievement. But 
 without is one, a captive in the affair, for whom I 
 beg- your generous clemency. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Perhaps the female prisoner who 
 is mentioned here I' 
 
 £div. The same. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Let not the lady wait— admit he? 
 instantly. — Clo orderly. J 
 
 Edii\ Wilh your permission I will lead her inv 
 
 (exit Edward. J 
 
 Gen. Jack. By all means. Gallant and brave- 
 there is something in the manners of that man, 
 speaks loudly in his favour ; his noble feelings fo3 
 a captive enemy are volumes of commendation. 
 
 A3 
 
 * 
 
 \ 
 
TUE BATTLE OF 
 
 scEN^E 2 — Eeenter Edward leading Louisa 
 and Child. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Madam, your servant. My young 
 Triend here, has possessed me of the particulars 
 of your present situation, and I shall be happy to 
 avert, as far as possible, the evils of captivity. 
 
 Z,ou. I thank your excellency. The kind offices 
 qF humanity can render even captivity supporta- 
 ble ; and my heart tells me, in this land of free- 
 dom, though yet a stranger and prisoner too, they 
 ivill not fail to reach me. 
 
 JLchv. The lady, General, — pprmit me madam. 
 
 JLcii. Most certainly sir. 
 
 JSdw. Hearing our convent spoken of — its 
 quiet and secure retreat from the turbulence of 
 the present time 
 
 Gen, Jack. Enough— your pardon — if it be 
 your wish to retire thither— 
 
 I.OU. It is indeed my petition, sir. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Granted. I think my friend the 
 Bishop should be here by this time ; to him ma= 
 dam, for the present we will resign you. 
 
 C/iild. Shall I go, mother ? 
 
 Ge7i. Jack. O, yes my little prisoner I or will 
 you stay with me ? 
 
 C/iild. And be a soldier I 
 
 Ger^. Jack. If you will ! 
 
 Child. I would like to be a soldier, (consider" 
 I'.gJ but all ! then I must leave my mother alone 
 and I cannct do that till my father comes. 
 
 Gtr.. Jack. Brave boy 1 then you shall go along 
 with your mother now, and be a soldier after. 
 Enter servant. 
 
 Scrv. The Bishop's compliments to your ex- 
 vCjIency, and waits your leisure. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Say I will attend him immediatelyc 
 He coj»f.s in good lime— INIadam, if you please; 
 
-VEW-OELEANS, &C. 7 
 
 wa will waic upon the Bishop, and you shall make 
 your own arrangements for the convent. 
 
 Lou. This condescension exceeds my hopes 
 indeed. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Lady, you flatter us — humanity in a 
 soldier is but the common duty of a man ; and he 
 is unworthy heaven's best gift indeed, who hesi- 
 tates to give to woman honourable protection. 
 
 Edw. Come, my little soldier, let us march to- 
 gether, (exit, J 
 
 Scene 3 — Jbi apartment in the house of Mel- 
 ville, sen. Capt. O'Flanega!* and ;Mel- 
 viLLE, sen. 
 
 Mel. sen. Well Captain O'Flanegan. 
 
 O* Flan. Your honour. 
 
 Mel. sen. Here are aw' the papers In order , 
 (giving pnficrs) and now that affair is dispatched, 
 and your friend discharged from his obligation, 
 will you answer my question, in regard to Colonel 
 Oakvvood's views I 
 
 O^Flan. Will your honour first allow me to 
 propose one ? 
 
 Mel. sen. O, certainly 1 a thousand if you please, 
 Captain. 
 
 O'Flan. Thank your honour ; but one will 
 answer the present purpose to match yo«rs. An 
 Irishman never requires odds when the difference 
 is not much against him. 
 
 Mel. sen. Vary weel, vary weel, Captain — prO" 
 ceed, sir. 
 
 O^Flan. Then I would ask you, sir, what have 
 you ever discovered in the conduct of Captain. 
 Brien O'Flanegan, that should induae your justiee- 
 iihip to suspect his honour, and call in question his 
 integrity ? 
 
 Mel. sen. Integrity — Captain I 
 
8 THE BATTLE OF 
 
 0*Flan. Sure, now ! you have not lived so Tong 
 by the laws, without ever a squint to that of hon- 
 our ! 
 
 MeL sen. Really, Captain — I do not perceive— 
 
 O'Flan. Arrah ! sure enough !— Justice is 
 blind, and I think it would do some people very 
 little injury, just to raise the bandage a bit, and 
 bother their good looking eye sight. 
 
 Mel. sen. Troth, sir, 1 don't apprehend ye ! 
 
 O^Flan. Apprehend me I — O by Saint Patrick, 
 I'll take good care of that jewel. But if you will 
 have it in plainer terms — this it is : — the miscre- 
 ant who would betray the secrets of his friend- 
 whatever country may claim the honour of his 
 birth-place, by my soul. Old Ireland disowns him r, 
 — and though he can be no soldier, both himself, 
 and he who tempts him to betray his trust, are 
 worthy candidates for an elevated command.— 
 (touching his coNar.J 
 
 Mel. sen. I seo I must humor him. f aside. J 
 No offence Captain. I honour your sentiments ;— 
 if there is any impropriety ye ken. 
 
 O'Flan. Impropriety ! — look you, sir ! 1 wilt 
 iust tell a small piece of my own private history, 
 all the world is not acquainted with j (for I can 
 always trust my own secrets where I can look well 
 after them) then judge yourself. 
 
 Mel. sen. You do me muckle honour, sir. 
 
 O'Flan. Faith not much, sir — I am an Irish- 
 man ; that is to say, by birih ; but I am an Irish 
 American, that is, the adopted child of humanity. 
 
 Mel. sen. I ken ye ha,* gotten very respectable 
 coYmexions, troth — 
 
 O'Flan. When I left my native country — op- 
 pressed, insulted Ireland — with an honest heart for 
 my patrimony, poverty for my partner, and a plen- 
 tiful stock ©f ill luck to begin business on — you 
 "yiij see I wa^ not overloaded v/ith good company- 
 
NEW-ORLEARS, &C. 9 
 
 Mel. sen. Vary true, vary true, indeed. 
 
 O'Flan. No matter for that. With a light 
 heart and the world before me, I consigned my 
 cares to the bosom of the Atlantic, and whistled to 
 the tempest that drove me to the land of U^ierty 
 and justice. 
 
 Mel. sen. Where you landed safe at last. 
 
 O'Flan. Aye, safe and sound ; and then com- 
 menced my troubles. 
 
 Mel. sen. Troubles ! sure I thought you had 
 buried them in the ocean. 
 
 O'Flan. My old companions, honey, — but I 
 made new connexions. 
 
 Mel. sen. No doubt they returned ; and would, 
 had you conjured them into the Red Sea. 
 
 O'Flan. You shall hear. Without friends, pa- 
 tronage, or money, I arrived a stranger in Ameri- 
 ca. Before I could procure any employment, the 
 disorders of the climate seized me ; and but for 
 the humanity of one man, would soon have finish- 
 ed my peregrinations. In his own house, with the 
 kind solicitude of a parent, he watched over me, 
 administered restoiatives, and like the spirit of pity, 
 charmed and soothed the burning rage of fever in 
 my veins. My health restored, the friendly arm 
 that raised me, still supported, and enabled me to 
 place myself in a situation that promised compe- 
 tence and independence i— and now, sir, what 
 should I merit for betraying so kind a benefactor ? 
 
 Mel. sen. Impossible I— such ingratitude would 
 be an act 
 
 O'Flan. That you would have me perpetrate. 
 
 Mel. sen. How ! your friend surely was> 
 
 O'Flan. Colonel Oakwood — under whose co- 
 lours 1 have the honour to serve, and when I aban- 
 don them, or the country that gives me protection, 
 may I be driven from the ranks of honorable men, 
 and roasted by the red allies of the enemy. 
 
10 THE BATTI,E OF 
 
 Mel. sen. Bravo ! my noble captain, I rejoice 
 that this little trial of your principles, so amply 
 confirms the tjood opinion I always had of you. 
 
 O'Flan. No blarney if you please sir. I hope 
 this little trial as you call it, of my principles, will 
 satisfy you that there is one Irishman, at least, 
 who scorns to turn a traitor to his friend — and I 
 should wish the hint to prevail among our polish- 
 ed neighbours of the continent, that when they 
 make themselves merry with our eccentricities, 
 they will not remember to forget, though an Irish- 
 man's head may be improved by the keen air of 
 the highlands, the best affections of the heart are 
 at home in the bogs. Sir, your servant, (enrir.} 
 
 Mil. sen. Very weel, very weel, my fine spark ; 
 I shall find a time till take ye down a bit for aw' 
 your blustering impertinance, the fellow kens my 
 aversion till this Col. Oakwood, whose son aspires 
 till the hand of my daughter ; the old man is ru- 
 ined by the way, and deel a baubee has the young 
 one till bless himsel — a very begger — besides 
 he has imbibed the political dogmas of his redicu- 
 lous old father, and chatters as familiarly of my 
 lords Castlereagh, Liverpool, and all the ministry 
 at home, as if himself was a nobleman, initiated 
 intill aw' the mysteries of the cabinet ; Charlotte 
 must discountenance his attentions — I will give 
 her a lesson till that effect immediately, for never 
 shall my house be disgraced by a connection wit^ 
 an incorrigible political infidel, or the blood of the 
 Melvilles contaminated with sic an a beggarly 
 alliance— never, never-i-troth an I can prevent 
 it. (eccit.) 
 
KEW-ORLBANS, &C. 11 
 
 Scene i — The British Camp before J^Tew- 
 Orleans — distinct view of the City — Soldiers 
 on duty before the Marquee of Sir Edward 
 Packenham. 
 
 Enter Sir "Edw Ann, followed by an Officer, giving 
 directions —bugle Jiourish. 
 
 Gen. Pack. It is well, and the Officer will keep 
 liis command. Are those orders dispatched to 
 General Gibbs \ 
 
 Offi. They are, Sir. 
 
 Gen. Pack. And the notes to direction ? 
 
 Offi. All, please your excellency. 
 
 Gen. Pack. Good ; be Vigilance the word ;— 
 to your duty officer. (exit officer.) Thy max- 
 ims, Fabius, and thy cautious conduct ; thy pru- 
 dence, coolness, and forbearing temper, hadst 
 thou commanded in a war like this, would well 
 entitle thee to praise, more loud than, yet, the 
 world has lauded to thy fame. By heaven, this 
 puny warfare moves my indignation ; and by the 
 glory of my best fought field, I blush to see those 
 troops, before whose arms the valiant of the world 
 have fled the ground, and Europe's conquerors 
 bowed the laurel'd crest, stooping to make their 
 war on raw recruits ; a chance collected mob of 
 various nations, differing in interest, moving by 
 no concert ; and led by men as motley as them- 
 selves. Why it is Achilles armed against a gnat ! 
 —no more. And when they are beaten, what's 
 the glory ? Give thom *time and they'll destroy 
 themselves. Proud city, tremble for ihy coming 
 doom ; — within thy bounds beats many a heart 
 with life that shall pour its purple current to ap- 
 pease the angry spirit of indignant Britain ; and 
 ere three suns upon thy turrets set, thy gorgeous 
 domes will pass to other Lords — thy halls receive 
 nty veteran warriors. 
 
12 THE B ATTIiE 0» 
 
 Eiiter a guard conducting Theodoiie 
 
 Theo. Is this your General, Soldier ? 
 
 Sol. It is ; and I dare say will do for 
 ( half aside ) 
 
 Gen. Pack. Whom have you here ? 
 
 Sol. A deserter from the fleet, taken nc 
 camp. We would know your honour's pi' 
 how to dispose of him ? 
 
 Gen. Pack. Young man speak — who are 
 
 Theo. A prisoner, Sir, as you perce! 
 Sailor ; and as my accusers say, deserted 
 the fleiet. 
 
 Geti. Pack. You tellyo:ir story with sang 
 however. Are you aware this crime nia; 
 your life ? 
 
 Theo. My life ! pray. Sir, to whom ma 
 be forfeit ? ' 
 
 Ge7t. Pack. Your country, sirrah ; whi 
 this hase desertion you have dishonoured. 
 
 Theo. Pardon me, Sir. I think my C< 
 •will applaud my conduct. 
 
 Gen. Pack. No doubt it will do you just 
 
 Theo. It never justified oppression. 
 
 Gen. Pack. It never sanctifies disloyalty 
 
 Theo. It has no cause in me. 
 
 Gen. Pack. How, no cause ? 
 
 Theo. It is jiist and merciful. 
 
 Gen. Pack. The world allows it — it : 
 Briton's boast, 
 
 Theo. Indeed ! — yes, they do boast thos 
 like attributes. I stand before you now, a pi 
 chains, how they can violate and outrage eitl 
 
 Gen. Pack. Astonishing assurance I ] 
 hear no more. 
 
 Theo. Indulge me yet a little ; — you dei 
 ed Avho I was — to speak my wrongs at one 
 am an impressed seaman ; but not, as yoi 
 
NEW-OKLEANS, 6cC. 13 
 
 think, an Englishman — no, sir, that drop of blood, 
 if any such there be within my veins, that holds 
 communion, faith, or fellowship with Britain, 
 while she rejects the laws of God and nature, 
 trampling on both, is alien to my heart. 
 
 Gen. Pack. Presumptuous wretch, beware ; nor 
 utter here treason against the government of Bri- 
 tain, 
 
 Theo. Pardon the libel ; it is the truth I utter 
 the language of indignant freemen, when nature's 
 rights by power are violated. The air I now in- 
 hale gives truth its energy ; and I feel its influ- 
 ence at my heart. What are to me your govern- 
 ment and laws, but objects of most deadly, rooted 
 hate ? when I am basely held an abject slave, 
 where I have a right to be as free as. you are ; — - 
 compelled to bear the lash, or raise my arm in 
 Jhis unhallowed war against my country, and own 
 allegiance to my soul's antipathy. 
 
 Gen. Pack. You say you are not an English- 
 man — the freedom of your speech declares 
 against you. Submit, acknowledge, and return to 
 duty, or — 
 
 IVieo. Never — duty ? Hold, hold. Sir, insult 
 me not so far. My greatest boast is I am an 
 American citizen. It was my intention lo return 
 to duty. It is in your power to give a noble proof 
 how just a claim you have to generous feelings, 
 when in a captive enemy you honor them. 
 
 Gen. Pack. It was your purpose, then, to jom 
 the enemy ? 
 
 I'/ieo. It >fas to join my countrymen ; — my 
 duty and allegiance there I owe. No power on 
 earth can change my resolution. 
 
 Gen. Pack. You refuse to return, then ? 
 
 Theo. 1 do, I am aware. Sir, I am in your 
 power; and am not ignorant of British magna- 
 nimity to prisoners. For three long years of cru*- 
 B 
 
14 THE BATTLE O* 
 
 city and bondage, I almost cursed the sun that rose 
 upon me ; and loathed the light of heaven that saw 
 my shame ; — have prayed for darkness to enshroud 
 the world ; one general blank in nature to ex- 
 punge me and my injuries from the roll of time. 
 It is vain to tempt me — a thousand deaths on 
 racks were welcome to me, if the alternative were 
 British bondage, cooped with the bloodhounds of 
 your boasted navy. 
 
 Ge7i. Pac/c. Insolent railer — this virulence has 
 fixed your doom. Guards take him hence ; and 
 await my further orders — away with him. 
 
 'JVieo. Approaching vengeance arms my soul 
 with fortitude, (o bear what further orders may 
 inflict upon me. Bring. out your scourges ; load 
 me with irons ; vent all your malice on me, and 
 be judge yourself; — how much superior to a Bri- 
 tish chieftain is the American ^\ho knows his 
 duty — how, with heroic courage, he endures even 
 torture when he is sure his country feels his 
 wrongs — when he beholds her rising to redress 
 them. 
 
 Gen. Pack. Away with him — let a dungeon 
 hide him. By heaven we'll curb this hot impetu- 
 ous spRrk ; and learn him v^e have reins for res- 
 tive spirits. Away, away. (exit. J 
 
 Thto. Lead on — you hear his excellency's 
 commands — I am ready to follow you. 
 
 Sol. I had ratlier lead the forlo-rn hope than 
 execute these orders ; yet, I dare not disobey 
 them. Well, well, perhaps his honour may coun- 
 termand them. Keep a good heart, my lad. 
 
 llieo. It is easier already. I have unpacked 
 a freight of fretful feelings ; and my heart seems 
 lightened of a heavy load. Now for my prison. 
 (exit.) 
 
??EW- ORLEANS, &C. 15 
 
 SCENE 5 — In MclrUUf senior''s house, 
 
 Charlotte alone. 
 
 Cha. Heigh, ho ! how dreary are these apart- 
 ments. 1 wish my father was returned — I am 
 weary of being alone ; — since the family retired 
 from the city and my dear Edward comes so sel- 
 dom, the house seems for all the world like a de- 
 serted castle — my father's company, tho' I am 
 sure of a lecture touching certain offences and 
 misdemeanois of the heart, is some relief from 
 this oppressive enuie — his plan of sending me to 
 the convent during the troubles, revives my spirits 
 — I like it prodigiously, — and Avho knows, but Ed- 
 ward, like a hero in romance, may risque from 
 the enchanted tower, his lady fair, and bring her 
 off in spite of all the dragons ! The idea charms 
 me ! — behind the veil me thinks hope smiles, and 
 groups of loves and pleasures rally round her. I 
 hear steps in the anU'Chi^mber, they approach,. 
 
 Enter Edward Oakwood. 
 
 Rdna. Good morning my dearest Charlotte, so 
 !et me call you still, tho' father's may be obdurate. 
 
 Cha. Oh Edward, the rigid mandates of un- 
 feeling parents, time out of mind at war with holy 
 nature, are all too weak to bind ingenuous heai'ts, 
 or force sincere affection into love or hate, as pre- 
 judice, caprice or interest dictates. 
 
 £dw. This momeut recompences an age of 
 wretched absence. The heart is jealous of its joys, 
 that loves ; believing all unsure 'till all's possess'd ; 
 I come to know my doom, from you alone to hear 
 it, — then, tell me Charlotte thou wilt still be mine j 
 and fortune thy utmost malice I defy. — Pronounce 
 my destiny, — yet you are silent— then aai I lost 
 indeed. 
 
16 THE BATTLE OF 
 
 Cha. Needs must I pause, vhen so unkindly 
 questioned. 
 
 Edw. Pardon me lovely girl, for worlds I'd 
 not offend thee. 
 
 Cha. With most ingenuous truth, my heart I 
 gave to liim who doubts the principles that moved 
 it — when Edward received the trifle, he believed 
 it hot'est. 
 
 £.dtv. He then was basking in a golden sun— 
 :he smiles of fortune, and the worlds esteem, were 
 his ; nor dreamed he of reverses, — yet I could 
 bear the chinge with fortitude, but that averted 
 looks, even froHi my friends, speak to my heart a 
 falling off indeed from fortune, sharper than dag- 
 ger's wound, and rankle deeper. 
 
 Cha. As heaven is witness, never to fortune 
 did I pay my vows, nor shall her fickle revolu- 
 tions, change them ever. 
 
 Ediv. O words of extacy ! — now do I breathe 
 again. — How impious to doubt such wondrous ex- 
 cellence — do I not know thy heart the seat of 
 virtue, and the throne of love ? Thy mind, supe- 
 rior to all sordid objects, towers o'er the grovel- 
 ing maxims of the world, and aims a flight beyond 
 its little views ; — here let me ratify again, that 
 faith which was pledged by honour to my bosom's 
 queen. (kneels and takes her hand. J 
 
 Cha. Now rise, true knight, confirmed in sa- 
 cred honour. Hear me Edward — my father has 
 resolved, the better to prevent our interviews, I 
 think ; but as he says, for safety from the gather- 
 ing storm, to place me in the Ursaline convent. 
 
 Ediv. Inexorable man ; 
 
 Cha. Yet trust me Edward. Hope whispers 
 happiness will follow ; and when my orisons rise 
 with holy sisters. Heaven's blessing will attend my 
 prayers xnd crown my wishes. 
 
STEW-ORLEANS, &e. 17 
 
 ■ Ediv. Powerful the breathings of the humble 
 heart ; not prayers of saints before the throne of 
 mercy, more potent plead, or more prevail with 
 heaven. 
 
 (During the latter Jiart of this sjieeckj Melville 
 senior enters unjierceived^ and listens. Charlotte 
 turning sees him^ and rises.) 
 
 Char. My father ; 
 
 Ediv. Your obedient servant, sir, (bows rC" 
 spectfully.) 
 
 Mel. sen. Ye can make a very pretty speech, 
 jNIr. Oakwood, But, sir, how can you presume 
 till address it till my daughter, wha I ha' positively- 
 denied till your society ? 
 
 Ed^,o. Pardon me, sir, if the honour of a long 
 acquaintance with Miss Melville 
 
 Mel. sen. Troth, I am not pleased with these 
 intrusions. 
 
 Char. Dear Father, Mr, Oakwood — 
 
 Mel. seji. Silence, liussey — I did not bid ye 
 speak ; retire till your Chamber, immediately'— 
 go, I say. (Charlotte goes reluctantly.) 
 
 Edw. She goes in tears r O ! that he were not 
 her father, (aside.) I am grieved, sir, to be the 
 cause of those harsh words. 
 
 Mel. sen. To break into one's apartments, en- 
 courage my daughter's disobedience. 'Tis very 
 ill treatment, sir. Yon knov/ I had forbid her till 
 i«ceive your visits, and will not be disgraced by 
 their repetition. 
 
 Edw. As a man of honour, I demand to know 
 what in my conduct, character or life, you find, 
 that makes my visit here disgraceful to you sir. 
 
 Mel. sen. Have you not designs upon my 
 daughter's fortune, to repair your own ? 
 
 Ediu. My sentiments towards that lady, are 
 •jjtfcfst honourabc — nay, sir, I am proud to say 
 • ' B 3 
 
18 THE BAT TIE O* 
 
 were I to receive her hand from you, a prize 1 
 should esteem of countless value, disgrace could 
 never spring from that connection, unless it be 
 disgraceful ou my part. I could not buy her at 
 bcr worth in gold. 
 
 Mel. sen. What arc your pretensions, let me 
 ask ? are you not involved in difficulties ? have 
 vjou revenue till supply the wants of a wife ; or, 
 in short that rank in society, befits my heir and 
 daughter ? 
 
 Edw. Fortune 'tis true, has dealt most hardly 
 with me, and as the world fixes for her votaries, 
 placed me in humble rank, from more exalted 
 prospects. I hold a commission in the service of 
 my country, and that I deem a grade of honour, 
 higher than mere money gives the wealthiest in 
 the land. 
 
 Mel. sen. 'Tis a counterfeit, uncurrent coin — ■ 
 respect it buys not, and the world pays no devo- 
 tion, till the honour of it. A commission troth I 
 
 JSrfw. Then sir, I have a noble title in rever- 
 sion. I am heir to 
 
 Mel. sen. Till what noble title, in a plebean 
 {^ountry. {^contemfituously.^ 
 
 JEdiv. A worthy man's inheritance. 
 Mel. sen. How much mon, how much ? 
 Edtv. More than the coffers of your world of 
 knaves were ever stuffed withall, fair honour. 
 Shew me a title worthier of respect, and grace 
 your daughter with it. 
 
 Mel. sen. Fine words and fine possessions, 
 troth ; get money mon, get money, and buy 
 honour ; a muckle fortune will do more at mar- 
 ket thpn aw the titles of your honourable ancestry. 
 Henceforth, my locks shall keep without the 
 doors aw who would intrude without my invita- 
 tion, (exil.) 
 Mdi9. I would th« power to keep intruders-out 
 
f E\V-0RLT3ANS, &C. ±9 
 
 tveis more extensive than it is at present ; that 
 other lands would hold within their limits the un- 
 principled ingrates, that they disembogue, to heap 
 their treasures where they vent their venom ; then 
 might we stop corruption's putrid tide ; our coun- 
 try be secure from foreign taint, nor lavish nur- 
 ture on a reptile race, to gnaw its vitals, and tra- 
 'luce its fame. (^exit.^ 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene 1 — A Sived in Xciu Orleans. 
 
 Enter EdwaRo Oakwood and Cafit. O'Flana- 
 GANj Meeting. 
 
 O'Flan. Good day, friend Oakwood. 
 
 Edv/. Well encountered ; my very wish to meet 
 you. 
 
 O'Flan. And mine no less — my heart is burst- 
 ing with a freight of joy ; and labours to discharge 
 itself. 
 
 Hdiv. The cause of this emotion, I can judge j 
 — Have you not seen the Tennessean troops ? 
 
 O'Flan. You gues6 it rightly. I was at the 
 review, and never have witnessed such enthusi- 
 astic zeal before — never have heard, or read such 
 warm devotion to the common cause. 
 
 Ediv. Indeed they are inspired with glorious 
 ardor, that promises a harvest of rich honors. 
 
 O'Flan. Say but a tythe part that appears is 
 proof the vaunting foe attacks a wall of brass ; and 
 leads an enterprize as full of peril, as did the Per- 
 sian at the Spartan pass, when at Thermopyle the 
 iiiimortal band slew hecatombs of eiaves, and died 
 Qiv freedom. 
 
20 THE BATTiE Oi" 
 
 Ediv. The i-naitial spirit that prcvades ail 
 yanks defies defeat, and promises protection. 
 New Orleans novv may boast of her Leonidas ; and 
 future times, when they relate our story, will 
 couple with our chief the Grecian hero. 
 
 G'Flan. It seems as heaven, propitious to our 
 hopes, had from a host of veteran worthies culled 
 the man, complete in every warlike quality, to 
 lead our arms, and crown our cause with victory. 
 
 Ediv. Illustrious man — most worthy of com- 
 mand — Language is poor to speak his merit home; 
 He seems endowed with more than human pow- 
 ers ; and moulds men at his pleasure. Where 
 wild confusion and disorder reigned, system, obe- 
 dience and controul prevail. Materials opposite 
 in nature, meet, amalgamate, and move at his direc- 
 tion. 
 
 0^ Flan. The very soul of action — he towers, 
 indeed, superior to a man ; and rules the storm 
 of battle. But tell me, Edward, were your scouts 
 successful ? I hear you made some prisoners 
 ■ — 'twas a brave dash, and worthy of the leader. 
 
 Ediv. You flatter— we had some skirmishing 
 of pickets ; brought in some stragglers, and 
 among them a prize of countless value. 
 
 O'Flan. I rejoice to hear it — an officer of rank ? 
 
 Ediv. Born to command, indeed ; but yet no 
 officer. 
 
 D^Flan, Your eiugma, pray — who may it be ? 
 
 Ediv. No other, truly, than a gentle lady. 
 
 Q'Flan. A female prisoner ? 
 
 Ediv. And a fair one. 
 
 O'Flan. "Very handsome ? — lucky rogue. 
 
 Ediv. Lovely as rosebuds, ere the zephyr's 
 firing dashes the dew-drops from their opening 
 leaves, or Titan breatlies his burniog kisses or 
 them. 
 
NEW-ORLEA\S, &C. 21 
 
 O'Flan, Bravo ! faith, very gallantly hit off. 
 Heroics is the order of the day. You will become 
 the laureate of the camp, and wear the soldier's 
 and the poet's wrexith 
 
 Ednv. Poets have never feigned a fairer face ; 
 nor famed Apellcs, for his Paphian queen, con- 
 ceived a form so exquisitely turned, though al! 
 ihe charms of Greece combined to aid him. 
 
 O'Flan. Now Verfus I animate this lovely pic- 
 ture J and like Pygmalion let me worship it. 
 Where have you lodged this nonpareil of beauty j 
 say, Edward, shall I kneel before the shrine ? 
 
 Ediu. With that devout respect that may be- 
 tome my friend, a soldier's honour and a man^s 
 humanity ; tliree powerful pleaders in misfor- 
 tune's favour. The Bishop is her present guar- 
 dian, whose mansion is the asylum of the unhappy. 
 
 O'Flan. You throw cold water on the flame 
 you raised. Edward will not suspect the honor of 
 his friend, or think him capable of sporting with 
 the v.'retched. 
 
 Edw. By heaven I do not. Pardon me, Cap- 
 tain ; I meant not to offend you. I know no heart 
 more full of human kindness ; and I am proud to 
 share an interest in it ; but I have partly heard 
 the lady's story^ and in my zeal forgot another 
 pulse could beat as high for pity of a sufferer. 
 
 O'Flan. Edward your hand ; there's no of- 
 fence, ittdeed. How much I honor such a noble 
 spirit. — What shouts are those ? (Shouts heard) 
 
 Edw. The general passes from the camp ; and ■ 
 thus the populace welcome the worthy chief; 
 Shall we walk on and see them ? 
 
 O'Flan. With all my heart — but after, yon 
 must procure me a sight of the fair incognita. 
 
 Edw. Most willingly. 
 
 O'Flan. AlIoQS — done. (exit.^ 
 
32 THE BATTLE OF 
 
 Scene 2 — Bnlish Camp, Giiavdhome, 
 Theodoue discovered in cludns. 'I'ahle, lamp. 
 
 Tkeo. Am I awake indeed, or arc my s^ses 
 mocked with idle visions ? Surely I aiTi a prisoner 
 here, and these are chains that hang upon my 
 Jimbs — yet what has past, or is, seems but the fe- 
 verish fancies of a brain long deprived of rest. — 
 Tyrants, approach and learn a moral here. See 
 that the victim of your little spite, unmoved can 
 look at death and smile in chains. Like Regulus 
 (composed, when for his country sufferiug) with 
 firmness bear the malice of his fate ; his heart un- 
 bent, unbroken, unsubdued. Ye cannot reach the 
 freedom of the mind. *Tis near the time the 
 guard should visit me. I have some hope in him 
 —he seems compassionate ; and gentle pity, like 
 a clouded sun, shines through the roughness of 
 the soldier's manners. He comes. 
 Enter a soldier. 
 
 Sol. Young man, I bring you food. 
 
 Then. Thanks, good friend — I hope I shall not 
 long be troublesome to you. 
 
 5a/. I hope so too ; and wish a pardon may re- 
 live us both. 
 
 Theo. Death will — all else is hopeless. 
 
 Sol. Still there is hope where life is. 
 
 Theo. Despair alone comes to the wretched 
 captive of a British prison. My countrymen have 
 learned what mercy to expect from officers well 
 trained in British policy. 'Tis their's to 
 
 Sol. Spare me the shame of hearing this re- 
 buke^ — perhaps in part correct, but yet uncharita- 
 ble. 
 
 Theo. Speak not to me of charity ; of British 
 charity. What is it but remorseless butchery, 
 cold-blooded assassinatioi), chains, torture, scourg- 
 ing ? Have I not felt it, cannot I prove it all ? 
 
NEW-ORLEANS, &,e. Ho 
 
 Sol. This is the tempest of a noble mind, fren- 
 zied by wrongs and sufferings. I am, you see, a 
 British soldier, and 
 
 T/ieo. I perceive — yet, thou scem'st compas- 
 sionate and kind. Canst thou not pity, then, a 
 ■wretched man, condemned to die — die like a cul- 
 prit, rather than raise his arm against his country's 
 freedom ? 
 
 Sol By heaven I can 1 I do most heartily. 
 
 Theo. I pray you, soldier, sport not with me. 
 I think thou bearest a heart unlike thy fellow's, 
 for in thy eye the drop of pity trembles, and the 
 soul's eloquence speaks comfort in it. If to do me 
 service be thy wish indeed, aid my escape ; and 
 to a noble act of justice, which rewards itself, 
 I have the means to give the ample recompense. 
 
 Sol. Think not a bribe could make me swerve 
 from duty. Listen — first know, I too, am by 
 birth an American. Though by a voluntary act I 
 bear these arms, 'twas long before my country's 
 injuries roused her to war. It is now my purpose 
 to escape a service grown hateful to my soul ; for 
 never have I yet, and never will, in any manner, 
 aid my country's foe. 
 
 Theo. Brave countryman, with pleasure and 
 surprise I hear this declaration. 
 
 Sol. Be patient. I am resolved tliis night td 
 quit the English camp. Say you will share the 
 hazard of the flight, be my companion in the bold 
 attempt, and life and liberty may still be yours. 
 
 Theo. Thanks, thanks, a thousand times, good 
 soldier ; — may heaven reward thy honesty and true 
 allegiance. The city you besiege, contains my 
 parents, kindred, friends. Judge by your own, 
 what are my feelings now. Give nature scope, 
 and do a noble action. 
 
 Sol. To night 1 guard your prison ; secreted 
 
34 THE BATTLE OB 
 
 with your food are implements to strike your irorns 
 off. Deterniined to attempt your risque, 1 shall 
 be provided with disiUises and the countersign — 
 at midnight expect me — Then fortune favour, and 
 the day is ours. 
 
 Theo. Ard if success but follow the attemptr 
 my W'rthy fj lend will find a welcome home ; and 
 comforts grateful to a declining life. 
 
 Sol. I must retire — be prudent: Farewell till 
 midnight. 
 
 Theo. And then, farewell indeed. 
 
 Scene 3 — An apaviment in the Convent. — 
 Loi.isA reading. 
 
 Lou. I cannot read, my wandering mind, un- 
 steady to the book, still to its own peculiar grief 
 recurs and fastens on its sorrows, (rising, throws 
 the book aside. J O ! horrid war 1 of heavens fell 
 scourges worst ; — wherefore, dread demon, from 
 thy caves of night, stalkest thou to breathe con- 
 tagious blasts on earth, poisoning its transient 
 joys. Now o'er the fields, where teeming na- 
 ture late scattered her harvest with a boutiteous 
 hand, thy iron arm the mild controul usurps, while 
 smiling labour quits his peaceful reign — now to 
 the gleaming instruments of death, the plough 
 and sickle yield — now man to man opposed in 
 deadly strife, with hostile menace, each to each 
 displays the glitterino; pomp, and proud ostent of 
 arms — each swelling breast with emulation pants. 
 Nature's sweet sympathies quite, quite shut out, — 
 They meet — they struggle. O ! horror ! hor- 
 ror ! Spare, me, ye powers of mercy — let me not 
 think that way — 'tis madness, distraction. My 
 Theodore — my husband, where, where, art thou .' 
 (sinks into a chair, exhausted %vith em-e^tion]) 
 
]SEW-OUti:ANS, kl\ ^h 
 
 Enter Bishop of J^enV'Orleans. 
 
 Bish. Benedicite lady — in tears, daughter ; — - 
 wherefore those tell-tales of a heart surcharged 
 with sorrow ? 
 
 Lou. O My good father — thy presence ever 
 glads me. These horrid wais, have fill'd me 
 with alarms ; my busy fancy had pourtraycd a 
 scene so fraught with terrors of their mad'ning 
 fury, that nature starting at the hideous objects, 
 rushed to the eyes, to ease my swelling breast, 
 tortured with fears imagination raised. 
 
 Bish. Such drops do angels shed for sinning 
 man ; — bright messengers of grace ; and holy 
 signs of chaste affections and a virtuous heart. 
 
 Lou. But holy father, they were selfish tears. 
 Had you some dear beloved friend exposed to all 
 the chances of the approaching fight 
 
 Bish. Nay, cheer thee lady ; — heaven blesses 
 the righteous cause ; — my friends indeed, will be 
 where danger is ; but God is just and merciful iu 
 all. 
 
 Lou. Good father Bishop, shall we not join 
 our prayers, that heaven would keep them in the 
 rear of danger ? 
 
 Bish. God's will be done. I came, my daugh- 
 ter, ta" receive from thee the promised brief re- 
 lation of thy fortunes, and give the comfort of my 
 holy calling. 
 
 Lou, A simple story sir, and full of sorrow. 
 You are informed already, of my birih and parent- 
 Qge ; both English ; — v/hiie I was yet an infant, 
 of my parents, death deprived me ; I was left to 
 the guaidian care of a paternal uncle, under whose 
 fostering kindness, I scarcely felt the wrethedness 
 of orphanage— but alas ! ere 1 had numbered six- 
 teen years of life, heaven called him to his rest — 
 his heir 1 was. A necessary visit of business 
 c 
 
26 '^THE BATTLE OF 
 
 called me to the sea-coast ; 'twas there my chance 
 to feel that passion first, whose impulse universal 
 nature owns — 'twas gratitude inspired it. I f(^ar 
 I'm tedious. 
 
 Bish. 1 pray proceed. You greatly interest 
 me. 
 
 Lou. One day, while walking on the water's 
 cdt:;e to breathe the wholesome breezes of the sea, 
 I left my friends and climb'd the fearful rocks 
 that raised their towering heads along its maigin. 
 Too far I ventured — my brain grew giddy, and 
 my feet unfirm, I lost my hold — the element re- 
 ceived me. 
 • Bish. Heaven's mercy ! — lady. 
 Lou. The winds blew high, and the vext bil- 
 lows roared. While my companions shrieked 
 and called for help, a stranger from a boat dashed 
 in the waves, and bore me safely from their rage 
 and fury. My grateful heart acknowkdgcd hitn 
 its lord. 
 
 Bish, Most generous man ! 'twas nobly done 
 indeed. To heaven was due thy offering, daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Lou. I gave my thanks to heaven — to him my 
 hand and fortune ; — he became my husband. He 
 was a native of this country, a youdg American, 
 and a mariner. Engagements compelled him to 
 pursue his enterprise ; and for a little period, as 
 we fondly hoped, England he left, and me to 
 mourn his absence. Three tedious lagging years 
 have passed away since then, while 1 have mourn- 
 ed his loss, nor know his destiny. 
 
 Bish. Alas, alas ! thy story m.oves my pity ; — 
 pray proceed. 
 
 Lou. Siuiiing with fear, yet hoping for suc- 
 cess, the courage I assumed to brave the deep, 
 and with my infant boy seek, with a widowed 
 heart, his father and my husband. 
 
XEW-OULEAXS, &:c. 27 
 
 Bish. Mother of Saints, reward this pious la- 
 bour. 
 
 Lou. The war commenced and raged. We 
 reached Bermuda safely, where 1 remained, wait- 
 ing conveyance to the continent ; a chance occurs 
 red for Halifax ; — We sailed, and after three days 
 out, eng-ao;ed a privateer that ca;)tured us ; a Bri- 
 tisli frigate, bound on the expediiion of Xew-Or- 
 leans, re-took the prize, and v/ith her I arrived. 
 The subsequent events you know already, in the 
 brief history of Louisa Melville. 
 
 Bish. Melville 1 good heaven ; 
 
 Lou. What agitates you thus, good father. 
 
 Bish. I must suppress my thoughts, till all be 
 ascertained, (aside.) Wonder not daughter if this 
 recital should create emotion. Be comforted — 
 »' God tempers the wind to the shorn Jamb ;" and 
 doubt not of its mercy to the wanderer. Mean- 
 time all methods will be taken, to obtain a know- 
 ledge of the object of your searches. 
 
 Lou. Thanks, thanks, my reverend friend- 
 one favour more, will swell the obligation. 
 
 Bish. Name it. 
 
 Lou. This casket of much value, I preserved ; 
 rich jewels it contains, and I would place it in 
 Tour charge, what e're betide the mother, for my 
 child. 
 
 Bish. I will religiously observe the trust ; and 
 now I take my leave — anon I will return, and 
 hope, with cheerful tidings, bless thee daughter;— 
 the hand of heaven is here. (exit.) 
 
 Lou. Farewell, good father. 
 
 Enter Child. 
 
 Boy. Mother. 
 
 Lou. My love. 
 
 Boy. Mother is that my father, whom you tell 
 me of? 
 
 '>' 
 
48 THE UATTLE OB 
 
 i^Qtu. ^No boy. 
 
 Boij. Mother, you called him father — I wish 
 he were my father. 
 
 Lou. Why child ? 
 
 Boy. He is so good — he kissed me, mother, 
 and gave me fruit. 
 
 jLou. Sweet praltler I — you must love liim 
 child, he is very kind. 
 
 Boy. Indeed he is; aTid sure I love him as if 
 he was mr father. 
 
 Lou. Heaven bless thee, sweet innocent, and 
 restore ihy father to us. Come, come, my boy. 
 
 (exit.) 
 
 Scene 4 — Uendexvous. 
 
 A Sergeant and party of Recruits disco: 
 rercd at a table drinking. 
 
 Sergt. Come my lads ! we'll have the other 
 mottle, and the song ; and then to business briskly. 
 
 lax. Sol. Aye ! aye ! full of spirits, orderly ^ 
 ihat's your way — charged to the muzzle Sergeant^ 
 -~a noble fellow, truly. 
 
 2d. Sol. Aye ! and brave, and of good report^ 
 and one I warrant to rise in the war, as well as 
 another. 
 
 Sergt. Come, come, my boys, fill your glasses; 
 apd Dick will give us the song he learnt of the 
 Boatswain of " Old Iron-Sides," when he belong- 
 ed to her. 
 
 3d. Sol. Tip us the glass first — d'ye see, I like_ 
 no song, that goes by wind alone ; so let us wet 
 our whistles, and all hands pipe the chorus. 
 
 Sergt. Bravo, Dick ! — here lads, drink round ; 
 here's" Success to the service." (all drink.) Now 
 for tlie Eong-, 
 
NEW-ORLEANS, &C. ^ 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Hark ! the Clarion of war calls llie son? of the bra (.• ; 
 Descendants of Sires doenied immortal in stoiv, 
 Yoiir falheisapiieal from the rest of the grave. 
 To preserve from corro.-inn their laurels of glory 
 
 Arise in your might, 
 
 Snatcji the wreath from tlie blight, 
 The garland of fame, won by valor in fight ; 
 On the altars of Frkkcom, your offerings raise, 
 To iiiheiit the blessing be warmed by the blaze. 
 
 Let us merge in one feeling;, of generous stamp, 
 fivery private concern, and all parly dissension ; 
 Let eich breast be a fortress, our countiy a camf, 
 And indignantly foil every hostile pretension ; 
 
 Arotise, one and all. 
 
 At the Patriot call, 
 
 " U.SITEn WE STA.ND, AND DIVIDED WE FALL }" 
 
 From a Vandal invasion and Saracen glave. 
 Preserve for you. sons what your forefathers ^ave. 
 
 Will the Sons of Columbia, inert and supine. 
 See tiieir cities in flames, and t'leir tcmi'l-'S degraded ? 
 Will LiBF.rtTv's heirs basely tly fiom her shrine, »' 
 
 When their homes are attacked and their firesides invaded ^ 
 
 Disgrace wlielm the slave 
 
 in obliviou's wave. 
 Who will not maintain on the top of his grave. 
 His honor, his freedom, his country's fair fame 
 Inviolate from insult, untarnished by shame. 
 
 'Gainst your Liberty's foes be your banners unfurler^ 
 To spurn from your shores every foot of invasion; 
 Eiom aggression secure the young hope of the world. 
 And as tirm as your hills fix the rights of the nation. 
 
 AVhile Yankee blood warms. 
 
 We iieed no alarms 
 If true to our.'elves, let the world come in arms, 
 The slumbering Hercules roused by the shock, 
 Will prove to the world his legitimate stock. 
 
 Be firm and united, resolved to maintain 
 Thosp gifts whickalone mafce your life worth possessing! 
 The foe will retire from a contest so vain ; 
 Your struggle be crowned by your God with his blessing. 
 Then brandish your steel, 
 • And to heaven appeal ; 
 Let your insolent foeman discouitited feel, 
 How mighty your strength when by wisdom arrayed, 
 Sl>g najjestjc yocr power when in Union (displayed. 
 
^30 THE BATTLE OF 
 
 *: 
 
 All lip.il to the hand, who like Spnrtans have joined. 
 Heart and liand, to rpprl tin- assault? of aggression I 
 Inspired by one soul, and informed by one niii.d, 
 They will lIiccIc by tlieir deeds tlie inroads of ojipresfton. 
 
 May Glory emblaze 
 
 With the prislinatic rays, 
 The Patriot Warrior who acts above praise ; 
 And Columbia will honour the worth of the brave 
 With a wreath for his brow, or a tear for his grave. 
 
 Enlcr Col. Oakwooi) and Capi. O'Fjlanf.gax. 
 
 O^Flan. Well Sergeant, what success to-day r 
 Get plenty of men ? 
 
 Sergt. Done very well this time, Captain, very 
 well — no keeping back nov/ — look your honour, 
 Cto the Colonel) here's a parcel of as fine fellows 
 as ever stepped to the tap of the drum. 
 
 O^Flan. I warrant, or the tap of the tavern, 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Col. Oak. Very fine recruits, truly. 
 
 0''Flan. Bad luck to the coward who shrink.? 
 from duty, in the day of his country's danger. 
 
 Sergt. Yes, Captain, that's what I tell my men — 
 face to the right, says I — heads up — mark time — 
 march forward, and Yankee doodle forever ! 
 
 O'Fian. Well Sergeant, take these men to quar* 
 ters ; and do ye hear, return to me, I have busi- 
 ness for you. 
 
 Sergt. Very well, sir, I shall obey orders. 
 Done very well this time, very well — come r.y 
 Jads,-come on. (exjV Sergeant and Soldiers.y 
 
 Col. Oak. Well Captain, did you succeed with 
 Mr. Melville ? 
 
 O'Flan. I did, my friend, and cancelled all the 
 obligations. Her© they are, (giving pafiera.,) 
 bonds, nofes and all : and when they are destroyed, 
 I hope to see you as cheerful as formerly. 
 
 Col. Oak. My dear friend, I have no words to 
 fliank yoti — hoTT can I express my ebligations to 
 7PU? 
 
NEW-ORLEANS, &€. 5t 
 
 O^Flan^ By saying nothing at al! about the mat- 
 ter, and allowing another heart sometimes to imi- 
 tate the goodness of your own. Were you not my 
 friend when all the world deserted me : and would 
 you have me forget it when I have an opportunity 
 to be grateful ? 
 
 Col. Oak. Those are sentiments worthy of a 
 Soldier ; and more become the man than all the 
 pageantry and pomp of power. Now do I see a 
 man may be indeed the being he appears. 
 
 O'Flan. Enough Colonel, do not make an 
 Irishman blush for having done his duty. 
 
 Col. Oak. What have we here ? (looking over 
 pafiers) does this belong to the papers ? 
 
 0''Flan. Surely — I received them all together. 
 
 Col. Oak. 'Tis an error, (reading) " To 
 George Melville, esq. Yours in haste and cou- 
 fidence, Packenham." 
 
 O^Flan. Ha ! treason, by the powers — 
 
 Col. Oak. A communication with the enemv, 
 sure enough ; and on the eve of battle. 
 
 O^Flan. To blow us all to the moon. By my 
 faith the old one will have a little trial here of the 
 integrity and loyalty he spoke of. 
 
 Col. Oak. I can scarcely believe the clearest 
 proofs. 'Tis indeed a most fortunate discovery of 
 disaffection. 
 
 O^Flan. A master plot of iniquity. 
 
 Col. Oak. We must instantly to the General 
 with this, and prevent the mischief before it takes 
 effect. 
 
 O'Flan. Oh, his justiceship will make a pret- 
 ty figure in a high station after all ! Wc will un- 
 kennel the sly one. 
 
 Col. Oak. We have no time to lose ; justice 
 demands the punishment ©f treachery, and 'tis the 
 liuty of eyery honest mw* to see it executed ; io 
 
S2 TUE BATTLE OF 
 
 ferand a traitor with a traitor's doom, his country's 
 curses, and the world's contempt. (exit.) 
 
 AC r III. 
 
 ScEXE 1 — The American Camp. 
 Voloiiel OctlxWDGil's vcghncnl dcjiks hefove Gen- 
 ci'ul Jiicl'soiift marquee, and drirws up on 
 cUlier side : Jioiu'ish of bugles — Tlie One' 
 ral and stajj\ bearing a siundard, enter 
 from Ike ieiili pru^s nlons; tlic line and re- 
 turn to ihefronl of the stage. 
 Col. Oak. Battalion Present Arms ! Shouldef 
 Arms ! Order Arms ! Rest ! 
 
 Gen. Jack Defenders of tlie republic ! Ameri- 
 ^^an citizens I — by that great bond of fellowship, 
 receive my cordial salutation. Were I now ad- 
 dressing an army, like that before your city, whose 
 ravening eagles, glutted with blood and rapine, 
 brood in darkness over our country's liberties, I 
 could lead you back to scenes of Europe's wars, 
 and flatter the savage fet-.lings of our nature, with 
 millions slaughtered for the sport of kings ; shew 
 bloody laurels reaped in foreign fields, and scars 
 received in battles not their own — then ask you 
 still, to yield the purple streams, in which ambi- 
 tions royal navy rides to lord it freely o'er a pros- 
 trate world. How noble are our destinies 1 — Ame- 
 ucans, our glory is to guard Columbia's rights ; 
 our country's gratitude, ourrich reward. VVe wage 
 no war for conquest or ambition, farther than may 
 secure from rude assault, and shield the public safe- 
 ty from aggressi'm. What man but feels tins cause, 
 his private quarrel— what heart, that beats not for 
 his country's honor;— who hears lue noW; anjl 
 
-NBW-ORLEANS, &e. 3a 
 
 would uot bleed for freedom ? Have you a wife or" 
 daughter, think of Hampton ; have you a son or 
 iieir, your father's legacy, was liberty ; — protect 
 your homes, your altars, laws and honor ; your 
 wives, your children. Most of all, your country de- 
 mands your arm, to shield them from pollution. 
 Merge in the general good all private feuds — the 
 :hain of union is a bond of adamant ; one link 
 dissolved, thereat distruction enters, and the 
 strong temple of your greatness trembles, as when 
 one stone was moved, the palace fell, of famed 
 Baharam, ancient Persia's boast, and tho world 
 Post a wonder of the arts. If each man on his 
 grave resolve to stand, we laugh to scorn the con- 
 gregated world, and hold our empire for succed* 
 ing ages. Soldiers, this standard, civic virtue con- 
 secrates to valor ; 'tis the city's gift — receive it 
 as the pledge of patriot spirit ; protect it as the 
 talisman of freedom ; perceive it as the legacy of 
 liberty ; — hung with your laurels, after times will 
 hail this badge of victory as the sign of hope. 
 
 Delivers the standard to Edwakd Oakwood. 
 
 Ediv. Deputed to receive this precious pledge 
 of patriot spirit as the City's gift, here, for my- 
 self and brcthren in arms, we swear with life to 
 rally round the standard ; only in death resign it 
 from our hands ; protect, preserve, transmit it 
 down to time, graced with the laurels valour may 
 achieve ; the badge of victory and the sign of 
 hope. (general shotit and Jiourish.) 
 
 Col. Oak. Attention ! Shoulder Arms ! Batta- 
 lion, by platoons to the right wheel, March 1 {the 
 troops fierform a march, and retire as they enters 
 cd.j 
 
5i THE BATTIE OF 
 
 SCENE coyTi^uEs. — Gcu. Jacksov. Gen. Cai^- 
 Koi. and other 0>>iciiKs of ilic ainjf. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Is a messenger dispatched to Gen- 
 eral Coffee ? 
 
 Offi. Ere this time he is with him. Believe 
 your excellency, what's possible to man, or can be 
 done to urge him on Mith speed, -will be perform- 
 ed. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Already his near approach has root- 
 ed from my mii^d a thorn of sharp solicitude. 
 
 Ge?i. Car. By noon, I think his troops will reach 
 the lines, and join his power to ours. 
 
 i^en. Jack. Then as the oak, the monarch of 
 :he woods, uprooted, plun^res from the river side, 
 bearing impediment and check before it, sweeps 
 like a tempest thro' the rapid current, so will I 
 plough the swelling dangers up, that now sur* 
 round us ; and pursue my course, ^vhile like the 
 awful thunder thro' their ranks we drive the 
 storm, and make destruction certain. Their num- 
 bers still increase. 
 
 Offi. Swelling and confident, they double ours. 
 
 Gen. Ja(k. So much the more will be our 
 glory when we conquer them. The patriot, 
 struggling in oppression's s;rasp, from superadded 
 weight springs more elastic ; with double energy 
 recoils, and rises in proportion to the burthen 
 on him. 
 
 Gen. Car. And when he mounts, oppression's 
 arm is withered. Tyrants beware : '' whom hea- 
 ven in wrath destroys, it first makes mad." Let 
 modern Carthage, of her wits bereft, pause on the 
 precipice, that yawns beneath, nor dare impend- 
 ing fate while yet retreat is possible : So stands 
 the idiot on •\oicanic fires, his giddy mind, regard- 
 less of all danger ; sudden the hidden mischief 
 bursts below, and sure destruction whelms liino; 
 it) the ruin; 
 
NRW-OBTiBAXS, &0, SB 
 
 Oca. Jack: We have a cause would make a 
 dastard brave, fearless and valiant as a mailed 
 mars; no arm in all our little band but doubles 
 the strength and sinew of their hireling slaves. 
 I think, there's not a man we number on ourp.-.rty, 
 would wish the foe a single soldier less, or bate 
 one blow from tiie great debi of venireance. 
 
 Ge'i. Car. By heaven I think so — mey'll pay 
 home indeed. The glorious ?un in all his circuit 
 course, beholds no scene more splendid or sub- 
 lime, than a great nation, rising in its power, by 
 justice armed to vindicate its rights. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Let them advance — we will present 
 « front, firm as the phalanx Macedonia led, when 
 nations trembled at her awful name, and the 
 world's utmost limits bowed before her. By vic- 
 tory led our heroes siiail return, their brows with 
 ever during laurels bound ; and to the eenius of 
 their country raise, a glorious monument, of 
 trophies won, from conquerors styled invincible 
 in arm^. 
 
 Gen. Car. Invincible indeed, in confident con- 
 ceit. They make them sport out of our scanty 
 means — with taunting and unmanly gibes, antic 
 devices, stale and pitiful, dispraise our leiiders ; 
 underrate our preparation ; mimic our order ; ri- 
 dicule our discipline ; and in these humours par- 
 cel out the spoils, as they already had achieved 
 our overthrow. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Deluded men. These are the omens 
 of their own defeat ; a';d sure precursers of dis- 
 comfiture. Is this the breed of noble daring souls, 
 that like a planet struck the trembling world, and 
 tore the bloody wreaths from conquerors' brows. 
 Hear not ye ghosts of Talivera's fields, Vittoria 
 and Vimeria hear it not, lest very shame reanimate 
 thy dust, and the oblivious tomb refuse to hide 
 tbec. I tell you sirs, just heaven has raised their 
 
36 THE BA.TTLE OF 
 
 pride to manifest its righteous favour here — their 
 genius left them when they crossed the seas. 
 'Tis our's my friends, reserved for us, to shew the 
 admiring world the future course of empire. The 
 time calls out for action — let us bustle. Will it 
 please you general, to go with me ? 
 
 Gen. Car. Most willingly, where we can con- 
 fer on future movements. 'Tis meet we should 
 1be stirring. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Come gentlemen, let us retire to- 
 gether — the time will come for us to meet these 
 foreigners — sharp be our weapons then, our 
 wrongs to right — we'll rise in glory, though we 
 fall in fight. (exit into the marquee.) 
 
 ScEXE 2. — Gen. Keane's Tcnl. Cmnsie.J ^ 
 (knei'als Keanb mul Gibbs, discovered ai 
 chess. 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. " And modern Lombards style 
 it pensive chess." JMove-if you please General. 
 
 Gen. Keane. Check to the Queen. 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. Zounds ! that's unfortunate — my 
 Bishop gone inevitably, " our son shall win." 
 
 Gen. Keane Check to the King : a coup dc 
 main, upon my honour — come, a glass for that, 
 what says your excellency ? 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. With all my heart. Fortune still 
 favours the brave ; none but the grave, General. 
 
 Gen. Keane. ' Twas the play for a kingdom — ob- 
 serve, your Queen at the Bishop Knight's third 
 place. 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. I perceived my situation too late 
 to retreat. 
 
 Gen. Keane. 'Twas the precise orde;- I v/ould 
 take to win a battle here of the enemy. My life 
 on the success. 
 
 (^en. Gibbs, Pardon me General, you nlayeri a 
 
NEW-ORLEANS, &e. o7 
 
 feariess ^ame, and moved with spirit ; yet there 
 were points 
 
 Gen. KcaKi'. Upon my life, t!ie only way to 
 beat them ; that is niy argument — burst like the 
 thunder on their timid ranks, its bolt is not more 
 eertain. 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. They have some men of tried and 
 valiant spirit. 
 
 Gen. Keane. Aye ! some they may ; but then 
 the gross, (your excelleiicy knows our informa- 
 tion is very clear in that) a mass of raw undisci- 
 plined recruits ; militia-men, that commerce and 
 adventure leagued together, outcasts of other 
 countries, vagrants of their own. Arc these the 
 men to stand before our troops, whose arms the 
 valiaftt of the world have fled, routed, discomfited, 
 disgraced ? No ! no ! at the first demonstration 
 they will turn their backs, and fly for safety to 
 their mountain tops. 
 
 Gen. Gibbn. 1 would with all my heart, the at- 
 tack were ready. Snug quarters here — and the 
 possession of this post secures the ulterior object 
 of the enterprize. 
 
 Gen. Keane. I think before two days we are 
 masters of it, and Jonathan removes 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. " To the city of Kites and Crows." 
 
 Gen. Keane. Good. *Tis near the hour Sir 
 Edward appointed we should arrange the dispo- 
 sitions of the fi Id; then if th^ enemy refuse our 
 summon'!, fortune and victory sit upon our swords; 
 Britons strike home and conquer. 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. Shall we wait upon his excellency ? 
 
 Gen. Keane. A glass, and then have with you— 
 (they drink) check to the King — ah I General. 
 
 Gen, Gibbs. I pray you spare me — a truce to 
 that, no check to the King on this occasion, C'est 
 mal appropos. 
 
 D 
 
Si$ THE BATTLE OF 
 
 Gen. Keane *•' A palpable hit." The King and 
 victory then. 
 
 Gen. Gibbs. Ah ! victory and the King, (exit.) 
 
 SCENE 3. — l.:]i. JiichsQii's Mavqucc. 
 
 J^n'icr Gnu .Tacksox, folh.wed ly Gi.oncE 
 iAii:i.viLi>K, esq. 
 
 Gen. Jack. I pray yoii sir, forbear — the duty 
 which I owe my c( untry, is paid in the perform- 
 ing. It never -was niy vice to stoop to flattery, nor 
 ean I think that man my fridid, who holds my fa- 
 vour at so poor a price, a coin so base, can pur- 
 chase any part of it. 
 
 Mel. se7i. The world still claims its privilege 
 till praise the actions of the brave — 'tis the ex- 
 citement 
 
 Gefi. Jack-. Say cf ignoble minds, of little souls, 
 •who centre in themselves, worth, virtues, qualities 
 ihey never knew ; who scent the incense syco- 
 phants apply; and think such worship honestly their 
 due. Believe nie sir, the humblest soldier in our 
 army's ranks, if he but executes his duties well, 
 deserves as fairly of tlie brea'h of fame, as nobly 
 his countiy's gratitude and love, as any pium.ed 
 chief who leads him forth to combat. 
 
 Mel. sen. Excessive modfsty. Indeed, dear 
 General, you must not do sic violence till your 
 own superior merits. Trotii sir, 'tis great in- 
 justice. 
 
 Gen. Jack. No move of this sir, I beseech you 
 — ray avocations are at the present most pressing ; 
 be pler,^ed to i-tatc plainly the I usiness you have 
 come upon ; if I can do jou service command me 
 freely 
 
 AIcl. se?i. Then to the point General — I have a 
 suit against one Ensign Ed>vard Oakwood. 
 
 I 
 
NEW-OELEAXS, &C. 30 
 
 Gefi. Jack. I know the young man well— a very 
 worthy youth, and full of promise. 
 
 Mel. se?i. Overflowing sir — he has bestowecl 
 some of them upon my family, and on mysel, who 
 hold his oiiljgations. My business here is, that he 
 be compelled to satisfy his bond — I ask for justice. 
 
 GcJi. Jack. His present engagements are to his 
 country ; that bond should first be caiicclled — 'tis 
 a prior claim, and cannot be delayed at this im- 
 portant moment. 
 
 Me!, sen. Troth, but it must, General — Pay- 
 ment, security, or prison. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Pray sir, are you acquainted with 
 the recent misfortunes of his house ? 
 
 Mel. sen. 1 am aware of its defection. 
 
 Gen. Jack. You do know then his inability ? 
 
 Mel. sen. I do — but I also know the law must 
 have its course. I purchased at fair market his- 
 obligation. Now I would have my money. Am 
 I not right ? 
 
 Gen. Jack. His misfortunes have been in part, 
 occasioned by devotion to the honour of his coun- 
 try. 
 
 Mel. sen. It would have been honourable till 
 have discharged his debts. 
 
 Gen. Jack. To avoid the ruin that involved him 
 was impossible with honour. He might indeed, 
 like many miscvrunts who infest the land, have 
 gathered to himself a princely foitune, if like 
 ihem he cou'd have taught his stubborn honour 
 to bend to inteiest, violated the iaw=. of his agoniz- 
 ing country, and m her day of (Lrkness, aided the 
 asvtssin's das.;^er, to search licr vitals, and pour 
 out her life — O 1 'tia a baseness, but to think on, 
 chills my bloofl — let public sluinie forever brand 
 the traitors. 
 
 Mel. sen. Let the authority look till it — 't^s no. 
 Cducern of mii^e. 
 
40 THE BATTLE OE 
 
 Gen. Jack. 'Tis the concern of every honey; 
 man, to point the finder of contempt and scorn, to 
 mark with obliquy the miscreant slaves, those 
 »ase and groveling rep'.iles, rank crawling can- 
 kers at the root of freedom, who feed and fatten 
 en their country's ruin. Oakwood I know cannot 
 discharge his debt at present ; perhaps not give 
 security. 
 
 Mel. sen. A prison then, wiil be a snug retreat 
 irom danger. 
 
 Ge?i. Jack. Would you arrest him on the eve 
 of battle ; and thus detain him from the public 
 service ? 
 
 Mel. sen. Shall I obstruct the proper course 
 of law ? 
 
 Gen. Jack. The present law plaees him beyond 
 oppression and rapacity — surrounding dangers 
 have compelled that martial law should take the 
 place of civil — of this you are not ignorant. 
 
 Afel. sen. I shall insist on justice. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Then so will I. Know you this 
 letter ? f shelving the letter. J 
 
 Mel. sen. 'Tis a base forgery. 
 
 Gen. Jack. That will be proved. At present 
 I command you to retire and keep the peace. An 
 honourable man wonld have observed a generous 
 forbearance raiher than foment private broils ; 
 aided our glorious cause, not paralized an arm 
 raised for the general safety. 
 
 Mel. sen. I shall retire sir, and pursue the 
 course that will insure redress, and give me jus- 
 tice, (exit.) 
 
 Gen. Jack. O justice 1 sacred virtue ! how is 
 thy name profaned, when even the ministers who 
 wear thy robes, dare with polluted hands approach 
 thy altar, and with the holy law upon their tongues, 
 suffer their hearts to violate thy rites with impi- 
 ous mockery— Detested crime. (exit. J 
 
^-KW-ORLEANS, &C. il 
 
 ScEKE -i — The gardens of the Convent. 
 Enter the Bishop and Charlotte. 
 
 Bis/i. Nay, cheer thee daughter— those lonely 
 ■walks and contemplative bowers, whose solemn 
 glooms appal the unpractised mind, by time be- 
 come familiar, will assume an air of swett tran- 
 quility and peace. Behold, as nature's self had 
 sought repose, how quiet, how serene she lies be- 
 fore us — the balniy air scarce moves the aspin's 
 leaf, and on the slopy violet banks below, the 
 drowsy zephyrs droop their perfumed wings ; — 
 here contemplation prunes her plumes for Heaven, 
 and the free soul holds converse with the skies. 
 
 C/iar. Father, this flower plucked from its 
 parent stock, where late it bloomed so fresh and 
 looked so fair, see how it hangs iis lovely head 
 and pines ; even so the heart, sure sensitive as 
 this, regret* the violence that plucked ils joys, 
 and may not choose but droop. 
 
 Bish. The heart is mended daughter by its 
 griefs. 'Till all its worldly feelings are subdued 
 to reason's steady rule, let the pioud temper bend ; 
 and th':reto solitude is salutary, for anon it heals 
 the bruised spirit with the peace of heaven. 
 
 Char. Indeeci, is solitude so sovereign ? 
 
 Bish. Most potent, lady. 
 
 Char. Ah father 1 ere now, when I have wan- 
 dered thro' the lonely walks that skirt our city, 
 where but the murniuving brook or warbling bird 
 disturbed the silence there, then have I caught 
 the spirit of the scene, and cried how sweet is soli- 
 lude. 
 
 Bisb. 'Twas homage done to nature. 
 
 Char. I thought so father ; for then a sigh 
 woui.i rise to fan the offering ; and my full heart 
 ^vould often bid me wi^h fur some congenial friend 
 to w lom I aiigiit impart, how sweet is solitude. . 
 
 Eish, O 1 holy nature, how powerful thy elo 
 D 2 
 
iS % THE BATTI.E &e 
 
 quence 1 — Yonder appears the lady Louisa and hei 
 friend Oakwood. 
 
 C/iar. Ah ! Edward here ! what'can this mean. 
 
 Bis/i. This way they come, and seem in haste. 
 
 Enter Edward and Louisa. 
 
 Lou. Rejoice with me my friends ! my Theo- 
 dore, my husband is restored, is here. 
 
 JBish. How say yovi lady — here ? 
 
 £dw. 'Tis true indeed, and wonderful withal ; 
 this lady, late my prisoner, appears no other than 
 the wife of my early, long lamented friend, Theo- 
 dore Melville. 
 
 C/iar. Ti.eodore Melville 1 gracious Heaven, 
 my brother ? 
 
 JSdnv. And your brother. 
 
 C/iar, Where will these mysteries end. Ma- 
 dam accept my heart's congratulations. Edward 
 give us joy; our meeting here indeed is happy. 
 
 JSdiv. Most cordially do I rejoice with you. 
 
 JSis/i. 'Tis marvellous — where is your friend ? 
 
 £dw. Within I left him with his child, while 
 1 prepared his wife to meet him. 
 
 Bish. See ! where he comes, impatience gives 
 him wings ; already he is here. 
 
 TuEODOKE rushes in ivilh the Guild. 
 
 ^ou. 'Tis he ! it is my husband. 
 
 Theo. Louisa, my wife. 
 
 e/iild. Mother, Father. 
 
 Htsh. Ulessings of heaven upon thee. 
 
 (curtain falls on the group, J. 
 
NEW-OULEANS, ko. 4S 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene. 1 — »/2 view of the Rher. 
 Troops landing fi'ovi the transport vessels. 
 
 Gem. CoiFEB debarks ivith suUe, Saluie of 
 
 the for! s—Jlourish. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Thus fai' success attends our en- 
 terprize, and augurs happy issue to our hopes. 
 At length my friends we view the hostile power, 
 the rash invaders of our sacred soil ; to meet 
 whose menaced vengeance, front to front, have we 
 sustained the toils of many a march ; and hither 
 brought our hardy western sons, to gather laurels, 
 and acquire renown. Soon will the storm of bat- 
 tle burst upon them ; and the proud foe in dark- 
 ness veil his grandeur. My soul's on fire to meet 
 the mighty conflict, and every hour's delay robs 
 me of tliat time's glory. 
 
 Enter Gen. Jackson and Oakwood. 
 
 Gen. Jack. General I rejoice to meet yoG, 
 Welcome, brave champions of the common cause ; 
 — your toilsome marches will be paid with honor. 
 
 Gen. Coff. We give your excellency many 
 thanks. Well met, indeed, in Orleans, How 
 stands the enemy ? 
 
 Gen. Jack. In instant preparation for attack 
 and battle. His shining squadrons glistening in 
 the sun, blaze with his beams, and counterfeit his 
 splendor. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Let him advance in all his pomp of 
 power — Let crimson war ensanguine all our 
 plains — with hearts resolved to live or die like 
 freemen, our little band will check tiieir daring 
 progress, and leave to after times a great oxample. 
 
 Col. Oak. There spoke the soldier's soul — 
 this noble ardour thro' my heart propels the blood 
 ^f age, and warma its icy current j each stiffgae.d 
 
■i'£ THE BATTLE OP 
 
 ncvve a youthful vigor feels, as when ray hand 
 first clutched a maiden sword, and every pulse 
 beats high with emulation to struggle with thee 
 for the prize of glory. 
 
 Gen. Car. What greater glory have the heav- 
 ens in store, what richer crown can mortal man 
 obtain than patriot viitue gives ? The laurel 
 wreath, that binds the hero's brow, who for his 
 country holds all abject el-e, grows in the Elysian 
 gardens of the Gods, fed with the ambrosial dews 
 and showers of heaven — and such a cro^vn shall 
 eveiy sol lier wear, who draws his sword lor liber- 
 ty and justice. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Our country smarting with her 
 maims and injuries, ret Is on the verge of ruin ; 
 but like a lion in her lair attacked, seems most 
 majestic at her utmost stand; flushed with suc- 
 cess, and raging with ambition, the foe directs his 
 conquering legions hither ; menacing destruction, 
 he listens only to a base submission. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Stout be our hearts then — fight we 
 not for justice ? 'tis true indeed, the time is full of 
 peril, but that will only prove our public virtue ; — 
 let it press hard and you will find my friends, our 
 western wilds preserve the ancient glory. Now, 
 as f love my country, and fear dishonor, sooner 
 to torture would I give my limbs, than basely 
 stoop to foreign domination. 
 
 Gen. Jack. These thoughts become the pat- 
 riot soldier well — my heart is joyed to hear them 
 — thro' all our ranks a spirit, worthy of Ihe stake 
 we fight for, warms every breast, creating emula- 
 tion, which like an eagle, cowering o'er her nest, 
 defies assault an'l promises protection ; as if one 
 soul inspired them all, tUey cry for vengeance on 
 the rash invader. Now would I rather be the 
 humblest ci;izen, that stands between his country 
 and destruction, than sway the power of univer&'a! 
 empire. 
 
NEW'OliLEANS, &e. 45 
 
 Col. Oak. This spirit roused, let Europe po«tr 
 her myriad vassals forth, to awe the abject world 
 tiO base subjection ; our cou'utry like a towering 
 rock will stand, and spurn the impotent waves 
 that dash aG;uinst her. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Long may she stand fuperior to the 
 shock, and the world learn a lesson from her 
 valor. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Wisdom, divine intelligence, inform 
 her counsels; inspire her sons with fortitude and 
 eourage ! Union, the bond and strength of pub- 
 lic vir'.uc, now with thy sliver chain circle her 
 states ! Come thcii whole hecatombs of hostile 
 slavrs, sumless as sands on Neptune's confines 
 washed, bar every avenue to freedom's temple, 
 crowd out her votaries from the hallowed shrine, 
 and sacred liberty, thy holy fanes shall own an of- 
 Tcring worthy of thyself. 
 
 Geri . Car. May no malignant star, its influence 
 shed, to dim the lustre of our rising hopes, or 
 cross our Avishes. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Well prayed my friend — araen ! 
 with all my heart — The brave command their des- 
 tinies, while the coward, palsied with fear, fore- 
 goes the golden opportunity, and frets at fortune. 
 
 Geji. Jack. Fortune upon our banners sits pro- 
 pitious, and marshalls us the way to victory ; the 
 destinies fight for us — the fire-eyed god of war, 
 in thunder clad, bares his puissant arm to lead 
 ojrr battles — my heart is full of confidence and 
 hope — never did brighter prospects cheer the 
 soldier with fairer promise of success and glory. 
 
 Cen. Coff. Glory and honor be to all and each 
 who share with us the fortunes of this war. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Come General shall we to the 
 c^mp I 
 
 Gen. Coff. Your excellency commands me. 
 
 Gen. Jack. First we'll see the disposition of 
 
46 THE BATTIX OF 
 
 the troops, and then to council ; let not the day 
 wear out, and find us lag in any duty which the 
 time sugc^csts. 
 
 Qcn. Coff. Away at once — the hour of dangei= 
 »nd us on the alert, and fortune go before. 
 
 (exit J 
 
 scEiv'K 2 — A Wood. 
 Enter Edward Oakwood. 
 
 Edw. Once more alone, my heart has room to 
 pant in. Ye lonely walks and solitary haunts, con- 
 genial to me now, I court thy quiet scenes ; free 
 to its feelings here, ray joyK-ss heart feeds on its 
 sorrows, gluts upon its griefs unseen, unnoted, 
 unannoyed of man. Here in these still retire- 
 ments will I hide me, snatch a few moments from 
 the idle world, i'lallowcd and sacred to consuming 
 sorrow. O ! hope, fantastic hope, where are thy 
 visions now ; where are the joys my s.inguine 
 fancy drew, when blest with princely fortune, 
 generous friends, my days should glide unruffled 
 by a care, and ebb in tranquil honours ! Blasted by 
 poverty, chilled by neglect, and the most '' un- 
 kind cut" of all, to bear the cold civility of sum- 
 mer friends, who unsuspicious nature made me 
 think had fixed me in their hearts to wear forever. 
 Well, well, let the cheat vanish ; be these the 
 lasts regrets I give my ill starred fortune. Some 
 one approaches — Theodore. n^ 
 
 ICmer I'HFiocoKK. 
 
 Theo. Edward, impatient to acknowledge my 
 obligations, I come upon tlie wings of friendship 
 witli my tiio.nks. 
 
 Hdiv Tiie wings of friendship ; 'ti=; an spt 
 phrise, Melville, the time has been iiis wJr;^K with 
 rosy wreaths were fettered ; misfortune eatnii, 
 
Kt\y- ORLEANS, &:e. 47 
 
 sundered the easy gyves, and bade him fly the 
 •wretched. 
 
 7/ifo. Come, come, my friend, these melancholy 
 moralizing moods I w:ll remember, when you 
 were yet a boy. Since that lime, to st about as I 
 have been, on the slorruv ocean cf life, I have 
 learned to calculate for sudden squalls and coun- 
 ter-currents, as common occurences in the voyage, 
 and scarcely worth writing in the log. 
 
 F.dw. But should these squalls and counter- 
 currents drive you from your port, or wreck your 
 hopes — 
 
 Theo. Wreck Hiy hopes ; they are too well 
 timbered Ned, easily to founder, and as to driving 
 from port, I bring that up, by lee-way and dead 
 reckoning, you see. Come, I hear you have been 
 unfortunate. 
 
 £dw. Yes, 'twould be the first thing, the world 
 would like to tell you of — I do not deny it. 
 
 T/ieo. Well, I am heartily sorry for it, how- 
 ever — but never mind, the blmd old lady has taken 
 me by the hand. 
 
 Jidnv. I rejoice at that. 
 
 Theo. You shall — for while we are in connec- 
 tion, Edward Oaknood shall never want a share 
 of the profits of the concern. 
 
 £dio. The same gcr.erous spirit as formerly. 
 
 Thco. I have enouijh to make us all happy ', 
 and though, you know, my father discarded me 
 for my determination to enter the navy, which 
 drove me into the merchant service, heaven has 
 led me through some trials to a rank of inde- 
 pendence, and conducted me home to enjoy it. 
 My father I find has left the city. 
 
 tdnu. I hear some misunderstanding witJi the 
 General has caused it. 
 
 Th'O Very like — his ancient prejudices would 
 never permit him to be well with a soldier, whose 
 dress was not of the plaid or the scarlet. 
 
diS THE EATTiE OF 
 
 ■Edw. Dj' what strange occurrences have wc 
 met again ; your wife too, my prisoner ; it seems 
 more than chance. 
 
 Thco- Direc'ed by that power who shapes our 
 course, steer to what point we will. 
 
 Edw. You find us surrounded with dangers ; 
 hemmed in by enemies, and on the eve of battle. 
 
 Thto. 1 thar.k my stars that brought me to a 
 share of it. Now sweet revenge let me pay home 
 my debt. 
 
 Edw. What is your purpose ? 
 
 Iheo. To juin the corps. 
 
 Edw. i am going to the camp — will you ac- 
 company me ? 
 
 JVieo. Willingly my friend — you shall assist 
 my suit — I am impatient till I wear a sword, and 
 wield it in the service of the state. Not half a 
 man is he who steps aside when his loved country 
 beckons to come on — like friends and brothers 
 let us stand or fall ; at least by nobly daring, reach 
 at fame, discharge a duty, and deserve a name. 
 
 fexic.j 
 
 SCENE 3 — Gentral Juclison's Marquee. 
 A Mililari! Council— 'prcscnl, Gencrdts Jack- 
 son, CaRHoLL, Col-l-EE. SiC. 
 
 Gen. Jack Worthy and valiant friends, the time 
 approaches that must decide our destiny. Either 
 our country rises from the shock, immortal in a 
 valorous daring spirit, or from the proudest height 
 CI glory fallen, by mercenary hireling slaves 
 rhro'\vn down, be blotted out forever. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Ere that shall happen, come the 
 general doom, and nature find out chaos. Forget 
 -v^e PkOw the fame our fathers earned when this 
 same foe they vanquished by their arms, and gave 
 an ciiapire freedom,? Let not their memories re- 
 
jr 
 
 ?nEW-011LEANS, ^c. *9 
 
 buke our spirit ; again let foiled invaders feel the 
 power that nerves the arm and feeds the hearts 
 of freemen — Again, O Liberty, thy eagle eye blast 
 and defeat their hopes ! 
 
 Gen. Jack. In vain they swarm in myriads 
 through ihe land ; their thousand ships in vain 
 assail our coast, if we resolve to guard our rights 
 like men. \Vhat ! shall this pomp of power com- 
 pel us yield the smallest natural privilege we 
 claim, to breath with them the common air of 
 heaven ? When I am base enough to council this, 
 may heaven's red wrath o'erwhelm me for my 
 crime, and blast my memory with a coward's 
 name. Rather let desolating war rage uncon- 
 trouled, and all the world against us come in 
 arms ; let us alone sustain the awful shock, and 
 bury us beneath the mighty general ruin. 
 
 Gen. Car, Igneble terms — dishonourable con- 
 ditions ! Chii.'fs of the war, the council spurns in- 
 dignant — what then remains ? Attack this giant 
 foe, and drive him hence ; or if we fail, still let us 
 fail like freemen. 
 
 Gen. Jack. My friends we cannot fail, if to 
 ourselves we trust, to help ourselves, the aid of 
 heaven will help us. With patient sufferance 
 have we borne our injures, till blushing shame 
 upbraids our long forbearance ; our wrongs are 
 multiplied ; divisions magnified ; within, dibsen- 
 tions nourished ; and without, scorn, insult, mock- 
 ery, trample us in dust. A people's greatness is 
 their loyal virtues, and they unconquerable who 
 will to be so. The eternal mind is free from 
 mortal bondage ; the chains of tyranny too weak 
 to bind it — our cause is just, our means are ample, 
 our country yet remains— r-jsolve. redress is cer- 
 tain. Away with palsying doubts — lead on your 
 power, chastise oppression, and redeem your ho- 
 
50 THE BATTLE OF 
 
 rour. Now by that Sainted name, who made our 
 wars when the republic first aspired to arms, and 
 blessed a nation with the rights of man, I swear, 
 till honourable peace, and rights restored, return 
 to bless the land, to banish all thoughts else, save 
 vengeance on my country's haughty foes. 
 
 Gen. Coff. Before our eyes St. George's ban- 
 ner waves, and hostile feet dare to pollute our 
 soil ; the foe already vaunts his conquest made, 
 and bleeding liljciiy in chains before him.—- 
 Whether it were better to attack him first, or wait 
 the onset of his menaced blow, let wisdom now in 
 fair debate decide, and so determine. 
 
 Gen. Jack. So be it chiefs. 
 
 (trumjiet sounded ivithout.) 
 
 Enter Centinel. 
 Cen. A flag from the British camp attends 
 without. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Let him approach. (exit Cent. J 
 
 Enter an Officek tvitli ajiag. 
 
 Offi. The British chief sends greeting, to his 
 brave opponent ; and next, so please you, hear my 
 farther orders — 
 
 Gen. Jack- Proceed — the council listens to thy 
 chief's instructions. 
 
 Offi. His excellency, anxious to restrain the 
 war that breaths exterminating I'age and death, 
 proposes you receive his conquering troops, and 
 stay the bloody con flict will ensue, siiould force 
 compel a passage hither for his unconquered 
 squadrons, by their arms. 
 
 Ge?i. Jack. What follows, if this brave be met 
 ,by stern and resolute defiance here. 
 
 Offi. Defeat, and desolation to your city follow, 
 with all the horrors that at^oad on war — so was J 
 bade reply, i 
 
NEW- ORLEANS, &e. 51 
 
 Gen. Jack. This is our answer then, and so re- 
 port : until his ftostile bands retrace their march 
 from hence, regain their ships, and leave the land 
 in peace, we break off farther parley ; and hence- 
 forth, let force with force neg-niiute, and decide ui. 
 bloody combat for our sacred rights. So be our 
 answer, and depart in peace. Let him have ho- 
 ]iourable conduct hence. Farewell. 
 
 OJJi. Farewell — 1 grieve this summons should 
 so ill succeed. (^exit Officer.) 
 
 Gen. Jack. JN"ow chieftians close the council 
 and retire. Invoke the heavens to smile upon our 
 country, conduct her safely througli the gathering 
 storrn to conquer in the conflict, fire every bosom 
 with a holy zeal, and nerve our arms in battle. 
 Let patriot virtue now sublime our feelings; its 
 sacred influence possess our hearts, and make us 
 worthy of the place we hold. fexcttnt.J 
 
 ACT y. 
 
 SCENE 1 — Interior of General I'aclisnhain's 
 
 t}lurquee. 
 
 *In assemhhj of ;];c:icral officers — S;«'Ed\v.4.kd, 
 Generals Kkane, Gibbs, &c. 
 
 Gen. Pack. Yet a few hours, my friends, and all 
 our toils will be repaid with the rich recompense 
 of victory. Let us a short time dedicate to social 
 harmony, let pleasure now preside, while care 
 and discontent, banished our board, take refuge 
 with tne foe, to goad and vex him. Strike on the 
 instruments. Let music charm the stealing hours 
 of night, and bring the glorious morrow. 
 
b^ rrUE BATTIE OP 
 
 C Grand CJwiiis xfUh instrimmils.J 
 
 When ihe braaen trumpet's sotiiid 
 Fills the echoing vaults around, 
 Deeds of bold emprize inspiring, 
 Hero souls with glory firing — 
 Hear the blast of l>attle roll ; 
 LI ark the warrior's ireful soul. 
 Strong in martial pride he towers 
 When the storm of battle lowers ; 
 Waste snd ruin spreading wide, 
 Charming victory to his side : 
 Then the nations wait his nod, 
 Then he seems a demi-god. 
 
 When the reign of peace return^j 
 Then for tranquil joy he burns ; 
 Woman's smile his heart delighting, 
 Beauty's blandishments inviting ; 
 Hears no more the battle roll. 
 Love, transporting, fills his soul. 
 Now forgot his martial feats, 
 Ev'ry pulse to pleasure beats. 
 Glory's wreath, and woman's smile-, 
 liow reward the hero's toil ; 
 Victory's garland, beauty's charmsj 
 Ever crown desert in arms. 
 
 Fill for him the racy bowl. 
 Cheer with generous wine his soul ; 
 Venus, Mars, and Bacchus courting^ 
 Woman, war, and wine transportiing 
 High the rich libation pour. 
 Hear him fight his battles o'er ; 
 Now he mounts the rapid car, 
 Now directs the storm of war ; 
 Victory's laurel seizing now. 
 Binds it on his ardent brow I 
 
3SEW-0ELEANS, &C. &S 
 
 Then to ease his swelling breast, 
 Sinks in pleasure's arms to rest. 
 
 Gen, Pack. Thanks, Avorthy friends. These 
 cheering strains lighten the cares that press upon 
 my mind, and warm my heart with pleasure — yet, 
 the great business of the coming day will ever and 
 anon intrude upon me, crossing the tide of joy — an 
 adverse current. 
 
 Ge7i. Gibbs. The night is far advanced; and 
 nature, drooping for her wonted rest) warns us 
 away. 
 
 Gen. Pack: O, that our sluggish nature thus 
 should weigh against the noble energies of mind, 
 with leaden ponderance bearing down the soul, 
 which else aspiring spurns an earthward course, 
 and wings its fiioht for glory. Then give the 
 dues to nature. Dream of victory ; for ere the 
 light of day the attack begins must give us that, 
 or sleep on btdb of honour. A bumper round, 
 and then good night indeed. (7?// and drink.) I 
 will but see you fairly on the way, and then to 
 rest myself. (exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE 2--~0iifside of tltc Marquee. 
 
 Offtcer^s Giiardf &c. cross the stage learing Sir 
 Echvard Packenliam, 
 
 Gen. Pack. To all, and each, good night, and 
 quiet rest. How silent all the camp ; such awful 
 stillness as precedes a storm, when nature's con- 
 flict shake the solid ball, and luin mounts the 
 whirlwind. How many a soldier sleeps secure 
 to night, who, ere another, must to sleep ff. rover. 
 Weigh, balmy blessing, heavy on their lids, and 
 feed their hearts with spirits. 
 
 (entere the, marquee.) 
 £ 2 
 
$i THE BATTLE OP 
 
 SCENE 3 — Intenor of Sir Edivard*s Marquee. 
 
 The General lUscovertd sleeping — The Genius 
 of Dreams descends in a car of clouds; ap- 
 yroachcs and waves lier wand over him. 
 
 fsoft imisio.} 
 
 Filmy ghosts, e're while that trod 
 
 The vavied round of life's career, 
 
 In marble vault or reeking sod, 
 
 In wat'ry grave, or church-yard drear- 
 
 My charmed invocation hear, 
 
 Arise and come away ; 
 
 In mould and form of life appear. 
 
 Be quickened— rise — obey. 
 
 Ye shadowy forms of things gone by^ 
 Whether on Lethe's banks ye lie, 
 Or viewless float in nether sky, 
 As ye were once in time, appear, 
 Ye fleeting shadows hither hie, 
 Unreal pageants greet his eye, 
 And mock his charmed ear. 
 Arise — appear — appear. 
 
 Shadoivs rise in the back gromid^ and sheio the 
 pageant of a battle ; during nvhich Sir Mdivard 
 ap/iears restless ; as it /irogresseSf becomes more 
 agitated. Starts from sleep — shadows disappear 
 — exclaims^ 
 
 Now, now they retire ! press upon them, bravely ! 
 ^^e I they yield ; they fly— victory ! victory ! 
 
KEW-ORIEANS, 6ce, 55^ 
 
 Guards enlcr — hs fuUs into their arms ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 Gua. Who calls so loudly ? 
 
 Gen. Pack. Ha, how now — what's the matter ? 
 
 Gua. How fares your excellency ? 
 
 Gen. Pack. Excellent well. 'Twas but the 
 airy pac'cantry which the brain engenders in sleep. 
 My drowsy senses have been mocked with visions, 
 abused with dreams, and idle phantasies. The 
 battle rag' d, fiercely my veterans fought ; victory 
 was ours — then all my faculties of soul engaged, 
 sundered the bands of sleep. 
 
 Gua. A happy presage of success. 
 
 Gen. Pack. ]No doubt. Get you hence — once 
 more I'll try to rest ; when I awake, see all things 
 ready as I ordered-— away. (exil Guard.) 
 
 SCENE 4 — The tBmencan Camp. 
 
 The troops in motion — drums heatiuii; to arms, 
 parties oj' soldiers cross the stage in differ- 
 ent directions. 
 
 Enter Col. Oakwooh and Capt. O'Flaxegan^. 
 
 Col. Oak. The enemy so near us,, say you ? 
 
 O'Flan. Already, as the morning clears, hi& 
 oolors may be seen distinctly from our works, and 
 hither they advance. 
 
 Col. Oak. Let them come on ; thanks to our 
 vigilance, they'll not surprise us. Is the General 
 stirring ? 
 
 O^Flan. All energy. I met him giving orders 
 on the field, cheering the troops, who caught and 
 Jook'd his zeal and ardent spirit ; and as his char- 
 ^r dasl.'d along the line, their shouts expressedi; 
 \heir confidence and courage. 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
56 THE BATTLE OE 
 
 Col. Oak. This day shall crown our hopes and 
 bless our arms, and with a ray of glory write our 
 names. The chosen bund that fight with us this 
 day, will make New Orleans our country's boast 
 to all succeeding limes. Now then, to join the 
 high illustrious few, and share with them a crown 
 of fadeless verdure. (exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE 5 — Tim Jimerkun intrcncliments. 
 
 Thr Jlagjiying on [he woTlis. .2 hoihj of Bri- 
 tish troops, led Inj Sir Edwakd Facken- 
 JiAM, make llie cdlack. Sir Eihcard falls — 
 the party retires — 25 succeeded by another. 
 
 Gen. Pack. Now my brave fellows, checrly 
 and set on — plant on their works the banner of 
 Saint George, and add another victory to your 
 fame. — Follow your General. 
 
 (Advances — receives the fire-'— falls.) 
 
 The fght becomes general. The Jlmerican 
 Colours are shot atcay. Edrvard Oakwood is 
 seen on (he ^vork — leofs sword in hand OTcr 
 them. Siezics the Cohnrs — is altackcd. 
 
 Ediv. My life — or gain the Colours — 
 
 (Icafis.) 
 
 A sortie made from ike intrenchmenfs to his 
 aid, led by Cliartotte Melrille, in Ike dress of 
 avohinleer, who draws and fires a pisiol — re- 
 lieves Edward from the stroke of a snbrc 
 raised over him~ He recovers the (tolours. 
 The BriiisJi retreat. Ciiarlotie, in the ac^ of 
 frilly drops her helmet. Her hair falling, 
 discovers her sex. 
 
ITEW-OilLEANS, &e. 57 
 
 jErfiy. My life, brave soldier— (^reco^-nir/n^ 
 her ) merciful powers — Is this real ? do 1 behold 
 in my preserver, my loved, my constant Char- 
 lotte I 
 
 Char. Forgive me, Edward, if unsexed to- 
 day, you see me here, a soldier by your side. In 
 her dear country's cause, a woman's apiiit towers 
 above her sex — and heaven in this was ordi- 
 uant. 
 
 Edxv. Amazement checks my utterance. Not 
 till this moment did a coward's heart beat in )our 
 Edward's bosom — a thousand dangers, now 1 see, 
 surround us. Fly from this field of slaughter; 
 make yourself safe, and I'm a man again. 
 
 Char. I must retire. I feel my strength une- 
 qual to my wish — that still would have me near 
 you. Nature, exhaQsted by unusual efforts, no 
 longer aids my will and high ambition. 
 
 £dw. Come then, my life's preserver, make 
 me sure a place of safety holds my heart's best 
 love. 
 
 SCENE 6 — Changes to another part of the field. 
 
 Distant firing. 
 
 Enter two Soldikrs ivounded. 
 
 1st SoL Plague on the wound — they have 
 spoiled my hand for shooting. How goes the 
 battle, comrade ? 
 
 2d Sol. As well as we could wish. I met 
 some prisoners who report three of the British 
 Generals killed, and the army retiring before our 
 brave commander. 
 
 \st SoL Thank hearen he is safe. I saw him, 
 in a bl9ze of fire, direct the battle. Now, said the 
 iioble General, play the man. Let this day settle 
 
58 THE BATTLE OF 
 
 the business — and then again dashed in the thick- 
 est of the fight. 
 
 2d Soi. Hark 1 'tis the retreat is sounded 
 
 f shouts, Irum/iets, iS'c.J 
 
 Isl SoL And shouts of victory — are they not ? 
 
 2d Sol. To be sure — and thus we answer 
 tbcm ; huzza — (shoutwg:) 
 
 I si Sol. See — they come this way, full march. 
 Stand we aside — noble fellows — brave soldiers — ; 
 stand close. 
 
 SCENK 7 — The Jlmerican Iroaps, as retiring 
 from the hatlle, enter and draw vp, enclosing 
 the Gexi'ral and OJfLcers, who form a 
 group in the square. 
 
 Gen. Jack. Thus far, brave warriors, have we 
 backward traced from victory's hot pursuit our 
 steady march — fairly brought off our honour ar.d 
 subdued the foe. Thanks, in my country's name, 
 comrades in arms. Peace to the memories of the 
 fallen brave. To them shall rise a monument 
 more proud than Antigonus to his father raised, 
 v/hen Greece adorned Demetrius' splendid tomb, 
 and hung her garlands on the sacred vase. Ad- 
 vance the stariclard in the army's front ; let every 
 soldier see the unfledged bird, that tore from 
 foreign eagles victory's wreath. Behold the ban- 
 T)er, by a woman saved. Hereafter, should the 
 leagured world enraged, assail those rights and 
 liberties, so well maintained, point to that trophy 
 of a female arm, and half unman its vengeance. 
 Now, let your warlike instruments proclaim to 
 the high heavens your this day's worthy deeds ; 
 and the blue concave echo to the world, the noble 
 
NEW-ORIEANS, ^C. 59 
 
 daring of the patriot band, that foiled the invader 
 and redeemed the land. 
 
 Hence, should a foreign foe your rights assail. 
 Justice and union be your sevenfold mail ; 
 To venial arts let vassal nations yield, 
 Duty and beauty are Columbia's shield. 
 
 ( General Jlourish and shout of the iroops.J 
 
 »HE BND 
 
 1k« 
 
in^HTT