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A very few ballads were published during the year 1777. " For some reason the muse is asleep," says the editor of the New Jersey Journal, shortly after the defeat of Burgoyne.
THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE.
When Jack, the King's commander,
Was going to his duty, Through all the crowd he smil'd and bow'd,
To every blooming beauty.
The city rung with feats he'd done,
In Portugal and Flanders, And all the town thought he'd be crown'd
The first of Alexanders.