Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Death of Woodhull

Death of Woodhull.

An American Ballad.

"General Woodhull commanded the Suffolk County Militia in the Battle of Long Island, in August, 1776, and is said to have been killed in that battle by a party of British dragoons, at the very moment when he offered to surrender himself a prisoner of war, because he refused to say 'God save the King.' This event took place at Carpenter's, a public-house, about two miles beyond Jamaica, where he was stationed with his brigade, and where he was attacked and defeated. There is a very aged woman, who was then the mistress of the house, and saw the tragical occurrence, still residing there, and in the habit of frequently telling the story to travellers, who occasionally stop for refreshments. By her, the following is supposed to have been spoken, and it perfectly corresponds with her usual narrative in every essential particular."—The Mirror, August 30, 1823.

 

Stay! traveller, stay! anil hear me tell A gallant soldier's fate!'Twas on this spot brave Woodhull fell! Sad story to relate!

A stout brigade was his command, Of Suffolk's sons composed;Thus far he led his patriot band, And here his life he closed!

That time Lord Howe, from Gravesend Bay, His banner bold advanced,On that same dark and doubtful day, In evil hour it chanced.

That Suffolk's raw, new-levied force, Surprised and overthrown,By sudden charge of furious horse, Took flight and left alone

Their chief, exposed on battle-field, Without a troop or guard,For him to raise protecting shield 'Gainst Britain's vengeful sword!

He saw the desperate day was lost, He saw himself betrayed;Not one remained of all his host To lend him needful aid!

Forthwith fierce horsemen gathering round, Cut off all hope of flight;And soon his single arm he found With fearful odds must fight!

Full twenty foes about his head Their glittering sabres flung,And down, on his uplifted blade, Swift blows descending rung!

But soon he ceased such fruitless strife, And now for quarter cried,Yet vainly begged a prisoner's life, For thus the foe replied:

"Who will not say 'God save the King,' No mercy here shall find;These are the terms from George we bring; Art thou to these inclined?

"If thou wilt straight pronounce these words, We grant thy traitor's prayer,And, peaceful sheathed, our loyal swords Thy rebel life shall spare!

"But if this offer thou refuse, Thy doom is instant death;Then speak! thy life to save or lose! It hangs on thy next breath!"

The chief, indignant, answering, spake, "Your mercy then I spurn,On such base terms my life to take, Proud haughty foe I scorn!

"I freely say 'God save us all,' Those words include your King;If more ye ask, then must I fall, Nought else from me ye'll wring."

"No! rebel, no, 'tis not enough," On every side he heard;"And since thou art such stubborn stuff, Lo! thus we keep our word!"

Then straightway, showering thick as hail, Their cruel blows they dealt.Their countless weapons fiercely fell, And many an edge he felt!

Yet still he held his trusty sword Upraised above his head,And feebly strove his life to guard While he profusely bled!

"God save the King," the horsemen said, At every stroke they gave;"God save us all," he faintly cried, "And me, a sinner, save!"

Till gashed with many a gaping wound, At length they smote him dead,And, prostrate stretched upon the ground, His generous spirit fled!

A more heroic, gallant end, No age nor clime can boast;Yet History ne'er the tale hath penned, And but for me 'twere lost!

Had he thus died for ancient Rome, His now forgotten name,By poet's page, and sculptured tomb, Had well been known to Fame!