Capture and Death of Nathan Hale
Reading edition
By an unknown poet of 1776
The breezes went steadily thro’ the tall pines, A-saying “oh, hu-sh!” a-saying “oh, hu-sh!” As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse, For Hale in the bush; for Hale in the bush.
“Keep still!” said the thrush as she nestled her young, In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road; “For the tyrants are near, and with them appear, What bodes us no good; what bodes us no good.”
The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home, In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook. With mother and sister and memories dear, He so gayly forsook; he so gayly forsook.
Cooling shades of the night were coming apace, The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat. The noble one sprang from his dark hiding-place, To make his retreat; to make his retreat.
He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves, As he pass’d thro’ the wood; as he pass’d thro’ the wood; And silently gain’d his rude launch on the shore, As she play’d with the flood; as she play’d with the flood.
The guard of the camp, on that dark, dreary night, Had a murderous will; had a murderous will. They took him and bore him afar from the shore, To a hut on the hill; to a hut on the hill.
No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer, In that little stone cell; in that little stone cell. But he trusted in love, from his father above, In his heart all was well; in his heart all was well.
An ominous owl with his solemn bass voice, Sat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by. “The tyrant’s proud minions most gladly rejoice, For he must soon die; for he must soon die.”
The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrain’d, The cruel gen’ral; the cruel gen’ral; His errand from camp, of the ends to be gain’d, And said that was all; and said that was all.
They took him and bound him and bore him away, Down the hill’s grassy side; down the hill’s grassy side. ’Twas there the base hirelings in royal array, His cause did deride; his cause did deride.
Five minutes were given, short moments, no more, For him to repent; for him to repent; He pray’d for his mother, he ask’d not another; To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went.
The faith of a martyr, the tragedy shew’d, As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage. And Britons will shudder at gallant Bale’s blood, As his words do presage; as his words do presage.
“Thou pale king of terrors, thou life’s gloomy foe, Go frighten the slave; go frighten the slave; Tell tyrants, to you, their allegiance they owe. No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave.”