Most Respectfully Dedicated to His Friend 
Abraham R. Thompson, M.D. of Charlestown, Mass.
"The Death of Warren" (1843)
A National Song.
Written by Epes Sargent, Esq., 1812-1880 
The Music composed by William Richardson Dempster, 1809-1871
N. B.  This song was written espressly for Mr. Dempster by Mr. Sargent.

Boston: Oliver Ditson, 115 Washington St.
J.H. Bufford & Co.'s Lith.
[Source: 012/081@Levy]

  On the day of the memorable engagement at Bunker Hill,
Joseph Warren, then in the prime of life, joined the American
ranks as a volunteer. "Tell me where I can be useful," said he,
addressing General Putnam. "Go to the [redoght?]," was the reply.
"You will there be covered." "I came not to be convered," 
rebutted Warren; "tell me where I shall be in the most danger;
tell me where the action will be hottest." At the meeting of the 
Committee of Safety pervious to the battle, his friends especially
stressed to disuade him from engaging his purpose. "I know there
is danger," said Warren, "let one who does not think it sweet to
die for his country?" When Co. [Prescottt?] gave the order to 
retreat, Warren's desparate courage forbade him to obey. He
engaged the last in the redcoat, and was slowly and reluctantly
retreating, when a British officer called out to him to surrender,
Warren proudly turned his face to the foe, received a fatal shot
in the forehead, and fell dead in the trenches.


When the warcry of liberty rang through the land, 
To arms sprang our fathers, the foe to withstand. 
On old Bunker Hill their sad laments they rear, 
When the army is joined by a young volunteer, 
“Tempt not death!” cried his friends; but he bade them goodbye, 
Saying— “Oh! it is sweet for our country to die,” 
Saying— “Oh! it is sweet for our country to die.” 
The tempest of battle now rages and swells, 
Mid the thunder of cannon, the pealing of bells; 
And a light not of battle illumes yonder spire— 
Scene of woe— Scene of woe, ’tis Charelestown on fire! 
The young volunteer heedeth not the sad cry, 
But murmurs,— ’tis sweet for our country to die!” 
“’tis sweet Oh! ’tis sweet for our country to die!” 
With trumpets and banners the foe draweth near; 
A volley of musketry checks their career! 
With the dead and the dying the hillside is strown, 
And the shout through our line is, “the day is our own.” 
“Not yet,” cries the young volunteer, “do they fly! 
Stand firm! stand firm! ’tis sweet 
Oh! ’tis sweet for our country to die! 
’Tis sweet oh! ’tis sweet for our country to die!” 
Now our powder is spent— and they rally again; 
“Retreat!” says our chief, “since unarmed we remain.” 
But the young volunteer lingers yet on the field, 
Reluctant to fly and disdaining to yield. 
A shot! ah! he falls! but his life’s latest sigh 
Is, “’tis sweet, oh! ’tis sweet for our country to die!” 
—’tis sweet, oh! ’tis sweet for our country to die!” 
And thus Warren fell! happy death! noble fall! 
To perish for country at Liberty’s call! 
Should the flag of invasion profane ever more 
The blue of our seas, or the green of our shore, 
May the hearts of our people reecho that cry, 
“’Tis sweet oh ’tis sweet for our country to die! 
’Tis sweet, oh ’tis sweet for our country to die!”