Dialogue at Hyde-Park Corner

Burgoyne

Let those who will, be proud and sneer
And call you an unwelcome peer,
But I am glad to see you here:
The prince that fills the British throne,
Unless successful, honours none;
Poor Jack Burgoyne!--you're not alone.

Cornwallis

Thy ships, De Grasse, have caused my grief--
To rebel shores and their relief
There never came a luckier chief:
In fame's black page it shall be read,
By Gallic arms my soldiers bled--
The rebels thine in triumph led.

Burgoyne

Our fortunes different forms assume,
I called and called for elbow-room,
Till Gates discharged me to my doom;
But you, that conquered far and wide,
In little York thought fit to hide,
The subject ocean at your side.

Cornwallis

And yet no force had gained that post--
Not Washington, his country's boast,
Nor Rochambeau, with all his host,
Nor all the Gallic fleet's parade--
Had Clinton hurried to my aid,
And Sammy Graves been not afraid.

Burgoyne

For head knocked off, or broken bones,
Or mangled corpse, no price atones;
Nor all that prattling rumour says,
Nor all the piles that art can raise,
The poet's or the parson's praise.

Cornwallis

Though I am brave, as well as you,
Yet still I think your notion true;
Dear brother Jack, our toils are o'er--
With foreign conquests plagued no more,
We'll stay and guard our native shore.