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diff --git a/old/50335-8.txt b/old/50335-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 857b158..0000000 --- a/old/50335-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6012 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of American War Ballads and Lyrics, Volume I -(of 2), by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: American War Ballads and Lyrics, Volume I (of 2) - A Collection of the Songs and Ballads of the Colonial wars, - the revolutions, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico - and the Civil War - -Author: Various - -Editor: George Cary Eggleston - -Release Date: October 29, 2015 [EBook #50335] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN WAR BALLADS, VOL I *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - Knickerbocker Nuggets - - NUGGET--"A diminutive mass of precious metal" - - 26 VOLS. NOW READY - - For full list see end of this volume - -[Illustration: - - "And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, - Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there."] - - - - - _AMERICAN WAR BALLADS_ - - _AND LYRICS_ - - _A COLLECTION OF THE SONGS AND BALLADS OF THE - COLONIAL WARS, THE REVOLUTION, THE WAR - OF 1812-15, THE WAR WITH MEXICO - AND THE CIVIL WAR_ - - - _EDITED BY_ - - _GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON_ - - _VOLUME I._ - - [Illustration] - - _NEW YORK AND LONDON_ - - _G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS_ - ~The Knickerbocker Press~ - - COPYRIGHT - G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS - 1889 - - ~The Knickerbocker Press, New York~ - Electrotyped and Printed by - G. P. Putnam's Sons - -[Illustration] - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - ACKNOWLEDGEMENT 1 - - PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION 3 - - THE COLONIAL WARS 11 - - LOVEWELL'S FIGHT 13 - - THE SONG OF BRADDOCK'S MEN 19 - - THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR 21 - - LIBERTY TREE 23 - - FREE AMERICA 25 - - EMANCIPATION FROM BRITISH DEPENDENCE 28 - - PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 32 - - WARREN'S ADDRESS 38 - - NATHAN HALE 40 - - THE BALLAD OF NATHAN HALE 43 - - THE BATTLE OF TRENTON 46 - - THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE 48 - - THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG 51 - - WAR AND WASHINGTON 53 - - COLUMBIA 57 - - TAXATION OF AMERICA 60 - - THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS 72 - - CARMEN BELLICOSUM 77 - - THE YANKEE MAN-OF-WAR 80 - - PAUL JONES' VICTORY 83 - - THE ROYAL ADVENTURER 87 - - EUTAW SPRINGS 90 - - AN ANCIENT PROPHECY 92 - - THE DANCE 94 - - SONG OF MARION'S MEN 97 - - HAIL COLUMBIA 102 - - THE WAR OF 1812-15 105 - - TRUXTON'S VICTORY 107 - - THE "CONSTELLATION" AND THE "INSURGENTE" 110 - - THE WASP'S FROLIC 113 - - "CONSTITUTION" AND "GUERRIÈRE" 115 - - THE "UNITED STATES" AND "MACEDONIAN" 118 - - THE "UNITED STATES" AND "MACEDONIAN" 121 - - PERRY'S VICTORY 126 - - YANKEE THUNDERS 128 - - YE PARLIAMENT OF ENGLAND 131 - - COMRADES! JOIN THE FLAG OF GLORY 135 - - OUR NAVY 136 - - THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 138 - - SEA AND LAND VICTORIES 141 - - OLD IRONSIDES 144 - - THE MEXICAN WAR 147 - - MONTEREY 149 - - BUENA VISTA 151 - - THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD 159 - - THE CIVIL WAR 165 - - BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE 167 - - THE TWELFTH OF APRIL 170 - - MEN OF THE NORTH AND WEST 174 - - RHODE ISLAND TO THE SOUTH 176 - - OUR COUNTRY'S CALL 178 - - A CRY TO ARMS 181 - - THE BANNER OF THE STARS 184 - - THE FLAG OF THE CONSTELLATION 186 - - THE STARS AND STRIPES 188 - - THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG 189 - - THE STRIPES AND THE STARS 191 - - DIXIE 193 - - THE OATH OF FREEDOM 197 - - CIVIL WAR 200 - - THE MASSACHUSETTS LINE 202 - - BETHEL 204 - - THE CHARGE BY THE FORD 209 - - MANASSAS 212 - - UPON THE HILL BEFORE CENTREVILLE 214 - -[Illustration] - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - PAGE - - THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER _Frontispiece_ - - THE COLONIAL WARS 11 - - LOVEWELL'S FIGHT 14 - - THE SONG OF BRADDOCK'S MEN 19 - - THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR 21 - - PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 33 - - THE BALLAD OF NATHAN HALE 43 - - THE BATTLE OF TRENTON 46 - - THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE 48 - - CARMEN BELLICOSUM 79 - - THE YANKEE MAN-OF-WAR 80 - - PAUL JONES' VICTORY 83 - - SONG OF MARION'S MEN 97 - - THE WAR OF 1812-15 105 - - TRUXTON'S VICTORY 107 - - "CONSTITUTION" AND "GUERRIÈRE" 115 - - THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 139 - - OLD IRONSIDES 145 - - THE MEXICAN WAR 147 - - MONTEREY 149 - - BUENA VISTA 152 - - THE CIVIL WAR 165 - - THE TWELFTH OF APRIL 171 - - THE BANNER OF THE STARS 184 - - CIVIL WAR 200 - - THE MASSACHUSETTS LINE 202 - - BETHEL 204 - -[Illustration] - - _Typogravures by W. Kurtz._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -ACKNOWLEDGMENT. - - -The editor of these volumes makes grateful acknowledgment of the -courtesy of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., Harper & Brothers, -Ticknor & Co., and D. Lothrop & Co., in freely permitting him to make -use of poems of which they own the copyright, and of their other good -offices. He feels himself indebted also to the living authors of -many poems here presented, for their readiness in consenting to the -use of their writings, and for the care that many of them have taken -to furnish him with correct versions of poems commonly printed in -inaccurate forms. He is under special obligations in this regard to -General Albert Pike, who has furnished a transcript, from his own copy -of a rare, privately printed volume, of the stirring ballad "Buena -Vista," for which a vain search had been made. - -[Illustration] - - - - -PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. - - -In the preparation of these volumes there has been no attempt at -completeness. The literature from which the materials are drawn is -much too vast to be compressed into two little volumes like these. The -aim has been simply to make the collection fairly representative in -character, and to include in it those pieces relating to our several -wars which best reflect the spirit of the times that produced them. - -The work of selection in such a case must always be difficult and the -result more or less unsatisfactory. There are many reasons for this, -some of which no one who has not undertaken a task of this kind can -fully appreciate. There is no fixed standard of judgment by which to -make a certainly just comparative estimate of the quality of several -poems, some of which must be taken and the others left. Merit, in -the case of war poems, is the composite result of so many different -things that no criticism can hope to make an entirely satisfactory -qualitative analysis of such literature. The poetic quality of some -pieces entitles them to editorial acceptance, quite irrespective of -other considerations, while there are other pieces having very little -poetic quality, or none at all, whose claim to consideration on other -grounds is incontestable. Mr. Stedman's "Wanted--A Man," Mr. William -Winter's exquisitely tender poem "After All," Miss Osgood's "Driving -Home the Cows," and Mr. George Parsons Lathrop's "Keenan's Charge," may -serve as examples of pieces which no editor with the least capacity of -poetic appreciation would hesitate to include in such a collection on -the ground of merit even if their character were somewhat at variance, -as in this case it is not, with the scheme of the collection. On the -other hand there are such things as "Three Hundred Thousand More," -several of the rude songs of the war of 1812, and many other pieces, -which make equally imperative claims to favor on grounds that have no -relation to the question of poetic merit. - -The song concerning the "Constitution and Guerrière," for example, is -very nearly as destitute of poetic quality as metrical writing can be, -and yet no editor of a collection like this would think of omitting a -piece that had for so many years stirred the hearts of patriots and -moved them to rejoice in the achievements of their country's heroes. - -The complex nature of the considerations that must determine the choice -of poems for inclusion is but one of several difficulties encountered -in the execution of such a task as this. In any event, many things must -be omitted which merit insertion, and the reader who misses a favorite -piece is prompt to point to others which seem to him less worthy, -and to ask why these were not made to give place to the one omitted. -There are three answers to be made to the challenge of such a reader: -first, that his judgment in the matter may be wrong; second, that the -editor, being human, may have erred in his choice; and third, that in a -collection intended to be broadly representative rather than complete, -preference must sometimes be given to the less worthy piece which -happens to reflect some phase of sentiment not otherwise presented, -even at the cost of sacrificing the worthier one which illustrates -aspects otherwise sufficiently shown. - -So much by way of explanation, not of apology; for if a book be in need -of apology, no apology can be sufficient for it. - -In the matter of arrangement the poems naturally fall into five -principal groups. Within the groups the chronology of the events -referred to has been adopted as a general rule of arrangement, while -for the most part poems that have no reference to particular events -or epochs have been placed at the end of the groups to which they -belong. No rule of arrangement, however, has been permitted to dominate -other considerations where other considerations have seemed the more -important. - -In presenting the ballads and lyrics of the civil war, it has been -thought best not to give those from the North and those from the -South in separate groups. There are several objections to such an -arrangement, of which it is perhaps sufficient to mention a single one, -namely, that by the separation of poems relating to the same events or -the same aspects of the struggle, much of their historical significance -is lost, and the comparison which the reflective reader naturally -wishes to make between the moods, impulses, aspirations, and points of -view of the poets on opposite sides is rendered much more difficult and -less satisfactory. - -It would be a special pity, for example, not to place in juxtaposition -Bryant's "Our Country's Call" and Timrod's "A Cry to Arms." An essay of -no little value to the student of the inner springs of history might -be written upon these two poems with their strange similarities and -their still stranger contrasts. Indeed a critic of creative ability -might almost reconstruct the history of the events which produced the -war, and discover the characters and circumstances and, above all, the -points of view of the people on either side of the contest, by a study -of these two appeals, even if all other sources of information were -lost. For this and other reasons it has been thought best to make but a -single group of the poems of the civil war, bringing together all those -that relate to the same or to like subjects, and indicating the origin -of the southern pieces by printing the word "Southern" at the end of -each. - -In the South during the civil war, almost all the adult males, with -some who were rather adolescent than adult, were under arms. As a -consequence, the men who wrote the poetry of the Southern side were -necessarily soldiers. But in less peculiar circumstances the men who -write the poetry of war, the men who make the songs that soldiers love -to sing, the men who irresistibly stir patriotism in the blood of -youth, the men who embalm heroic deeds in thrilling verse, and touch -all hearts to pity and all eyes to tears by the tender pathos of their -chronicles of suffering, are not the men who do the fighting. It was -not a soldier who wrote "The Charge of the Light Brigade," and it was -the gentle master of Abbotsford that interpreted the daring deeds of -knightly times in song and story. So in our civil war the most and the -best of the poems, except as the matter was determined at the South by -peculiar circumstances, were the work of men who were not themselves -combatants. Cynical reflections have sometimes been indulged in on this -score, but they are unjust and shallow, as cynical reflections are apt -to be. The qualities that make one a poet are not those that make one -a soldier. Sometimes the two characters are united in one person, but -that is rare; and the man who has the gift to write the poetry of a -war which involves human liberty as its issue, best serves the cause -by writing it. His part is as important as that of the soldier who -bears arms, and his influence upon the result is quite as great. The -patriotism and the courage of the Greeks owed more to Homer than to -the warriors whose deeds he chronicled, and Paul Revere did far less -for his country by what was after all a commonplace horseback journey, -than Longfellow long afterward did by telling the story of that ride in -quite other than commonplace poetry. - -Of the extent to which the war songs and ballads of a people influence -the character and destiny of that people, much has been written, -and the truth is not yet half told. Our present concern with this -literature, however, has less regard to its influence than to its value -as historical material. History records the events in a nation's life; -poetry, and especially ballad poetry, reflects the character, the -aspirations, the passions, and the purposes of a people; and viewed -in this light a study of the war ballads and lyrics of our country -must fill every reader's mind with hope and courage. Many of the poems -presented in these little volumes are rude, some of them being scarcely -better than doggerel, while much of the material is poetry of a very -high order; but there are certain characteristics common to all the -poems, and these are the characteristics that distinguish a virile -race which encounters difficulty with stalwart courage and confronts -danger with an unruffled mind. It is the poetry of strength and manly -self-reliance. There is not a plaint of weakness anywhere in it. It -is inspired from beginning to end by a high and unfaltering faith in -the truth of the doctrines of human liberty that underlie our entire -history and constitute the vital principle of our institutions. - -The ruder poems are a trifle truculent now and then perhaps, but some -little truculence may be allowed as a poetic license to the poet who -sings of his countrymen's prowess in just wars. In preparing this -little collection the editor has had occasion to read anew the entire -body of American war poetry of the ballad and lyric class, and he ends -the examination with a feeling of intense satisfaction in the knowledge -that there is not an unmanly or a cowardly line in it and scarcely an -ungenerous one. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: - - - - -THE COLONIAL WARS] - -[Illustration] - - - - -LOVEWELL'S FIGHT. - - -[This ballad, written in 1725, soon after the battle of May 8th, in -that year, was said by a contemporary writer to be "the most beloved -song in all New England," though "Chevy Chace" had been known there -almost as well as in old England. The name of the author is lost to us, -but his work has been preserved in Penhallow's "History of the Wars of -New England with the Eastern Indians," 1726. The ballad is rude and -destitute of poetic quality; but it has extraordinary interest as the -earliest American war ballad known to us as having been dear to the -hearts of the people who sang or recited it. It has interest, also, as -a reflection of manners. The commendation bestowed upon the chaplain -for _scalping_ Indians as well as killing them is suggestive.--EDITOR.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - LOVEWELL'S FIGHT. - - Of worthy Captain Lovewell, I purpose now to sing, - How valiantly he served his country and his king; - He and his valiant soldiers did range the woods full wide, - And hardships they endured to quell the Indian's pride. - - 'T was nigh unto Pigwacket, on the eighth day of May, - They spied a rebel Indian soon after break of day; - He on a bank was walking, upon a neck of land, - Which leads into a pond as we're made to understand. - - Our men resolved to have him, and travelled two miles round, - Until they met the Indian, who boldly stood his ground; - Then up speaks Captain Lovewell: "Take you good heed," says he, - "This rogue is to decoy us, I very plainly see. - - "The Indians lie in ambush, in some place nigh at hand, - In order to surround us upon this neck of land; - Therefore we'll march in order, and each man leave his pack; - That we may briskly fight them, when they make their attack." - - They came unto this Indian, who did them thus defy, - As soon as they came nigh him, two guns he did let fly, - Which wounded Captain Lovewell, and likewise one man more, - But when this rogue was running, they laid him in his gore. - - Then having scalped the Indian, they went back to the spot - Where they had laid their packs down, but there they found them not. - For the Indians having spied them, when they them down did lay, - Did seize them for their plunder, and carry them away. - - These rebels lay in ambush, this very place hard by, - So that an English soldier did one of them espy, - And cried out, "Here's an Indian"! with that they started out, - As fiercely as old lions, and hideously did shout. - - With that our valiant English all gave a loud huzza, - To show the rebel Indians they feared them not a straw: - So now the fight began, and as fiercely as could be, - The Indians ran up to them, but soon were forced to flee. - - Then spake up Captain Lovewell, when first the fight began: - "Fight on, my valiant heroes! You see they fall like rain." - For as we are informed, the Indians were so thick - A man could scarcely fire a gun and not some of them hit. - - Then did the rebels try their best our soldiers to surround, - But they could not accomplish it, because there was a pond, - To which our men retreated, and covered all the rear, - The rogues were forced to face them, although they skulked for fear. - - Two logs there were behind them that close together lay, - Without being discovered, they could not get away; - Therefore our valiant English they travelled in a row, - And at a handsome distance, as they were wont to go. - - 'T was ten o'clock in the morning when first the fight begun, - And fiercely did continue until the setting sun; - Excepting that the Indians some hours before 't was night - Drew off into the bushes and ceased awhile to fight. - - But soon again returned, in fierce and furious mood. - Shouting as in the morning, but yet not half so loud; - For as we are informed, so thick and fast they fell, - Scarce twenty of their number at night did get home well. - - And that our valiant English till midnight there did stay, - To see whether the rebels would have another fray; - But they no more returning, they made off towards their home, - And brought away their wounded as far as they could come. - - Of all our valiant English there were but thirty-four, - And of the rebel Indians there were about fourscore, - And sixteen of our English did safely home return, - The rest were killed and wounded, for which we all must mourn. - - Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there did die, - They killed Lieutenant Robbins, and wounded good young Frye, - Who was our English chaplain; he many Indians slew, - And some of them he scalped when bullets round him flew. - - Young Fullam, too, I'll mention, because he fought so well, - Endeavoring to save a man, a sacrifice he fell: - But yet our valiant Englishmen in fight were ne'er dismayed, - But still they kept their motion, and Wymans captain made. - - Who shot the old chief Pagus, which did the foe defeat, - Then set his men in order, and brought off the retreat; - And braving many dangers and hardships in the way, - They safe arrived at Dunstable, the thirteenth day of May. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE SONG OF BRADDOCK'S MEN. - -Fort DuQuesne Expedition, 1755. - - - To arms, to arms! my jolly grenadiers! - Hark how the drums do roll it along! - To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer; - We'll meet our proud foe before it is long. - Let not your courage fail you; - Be valiant, stout, and bold; - And it will soon avail you, - My loyal hearts of gold. - Huzzah, my valiant countrymen!--again I say huzzah! - 'T is nobly done,--the day's our own--huzzah, huzzah! - - March on, march on, brave Braddock leads the foremost; - The battle is begun as you may fairly see. - Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over; - We'll soon gain the field from our proud enemy. - A squadron now appears, my boys; - If that they do but stand! - Boys, never fear, be sure you mind - The word of command! - Huzzah, my valiant countrymen!--again I say huzzah! - 'T is nobly done,--the day's our own--huzzah, huzzah! - - See how, see how, they break and fly before us! - See how they are scattered all over the plain! - Now, now--now, now, our country will adore us! - In peace and in triumph, boys, when we return again! - Then laurels shall our glory crown - For all our actions told: - The hills shall echo all around, - My loyal hearts of gold. - Huzzah, my valiant countrymen!--again I say huzzah! - 'T is nobly done,--the day's our own--huzzah, huzzah! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: - - - - -THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR] - -[Illustration] - - - - -LIBERTY TREE. - -BY THOMAS PAINE. - -(Published in the _Pennsylvania Magazine_, 1775.) - - - In a chariot of light from the regions of day, - The Goddess of Liberty came; - Ten thousand celestials directed the way, - And hither conducted the dame. - A fair budding branch from the gardens above, - Where millions with millions agree, - She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love, - And the plant she named _Liberty Tree_. - - The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground, - Like a native it flourished and bore; - The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, - To seek out this peaceable shore. - Unmindful of names or distinction they came, - For freemen like brothers agree; - With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, - And their temple was _Liberty Tree_. - - Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, - Their bread in contentment they ate, - Unvexed with the troubles of silver and gold, - The cares of the grand and the great. - With timber and tar they Old England supplied, - And supported her power on the sea; - Her battles they fought, without getting a groat, - For the honor of _Liberty Tree_. - - But hear, O ye swains, 'tis a tale most profane, - How all the tyrannical powers, - Kings, Commons, and Lords, are uniting amain, - To cut down this guardian of ours; - From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms, - Through the land let the sound of it flee, - Let the far and the near, all unite with a cheer, - In defence of our _Liberty Tree_. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -FREE AMERICA. - - -[This poem first appeared in the newspapers in 1774, and was ascribed -to Joseph Warren.--EDITOR.] - - That seat of Science, Athens, - And earth's proud mistress, Rome; - Where now are all their glories? - We scarce can find a tomb. - Then guard your rights, Americans, - Nor stoop to lawless sway; - Oppose, oppose, oppose, oppose, - For North America. - - We led fair Freedom hither, - And lo, the desert smiled! - A paradise of pleasure - Was opened in the wild! - Your harvest, bold Americans, - No power shall snatch away! - Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, - For free America. - - Torn from a world of tyrants, - Beneath this western sky, - We formed a new dominion, - A land of liberty: - The world shall own we're masters here; - Then hasten on the day: - Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, - For free America. - - Proud Albion bowed to Cæsar, - And numerous lords before; - To Picts, to Danes, to Normans, - And many masters more: - But we can boast, Americans, - We've never fallen a prey; - Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, - For free America. - - God bless this maiden climate, - And through its vast domain - May hosts of heroes cluster, - Who scorn to wear a chain: - And blast the venal sycophant - That dares our rights betray; - Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, - For free America. - - Lift up your hands, ye heroes, - And swear with proud disdain, - The wretch that would ensnare you, - Shall lay his snares in vain: - Should Europe empty all her force, - We'll meet her in array, - And fight and shout, and shout and fight - For North America. - - Some future day shall crown us, - The masters of the main, - Our fleets shall speak in thunder - To England, France, and Spain; - And the nations over the ocean spread - Shall tremble and obey - The sons, the sons, the sons, the sons, - Of brave America. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -EMANCIPATION FROM BRITISH DEPENDENCE. - -BY PHILIP FRENEAU. - - -[The following note explanatory of references to proper names, etc., in -this poem is copied from Duyckinck's edition of Freneau.--EDITOR.] - -NOTE.--Sir James Wallace, Admiral Graves, and Captain Montague, were -British naval officers, employed on our coast. The _Viper_ and _Rose_ -were vessels in the service. Lord Dunmore, the last royal governor -of Virginia, had recently, in April, 1775, removed the public stores -from Williamsburg, and, in conjunction with a party of adherents, -supported by the naval force on the station, was making war on the -province. William Tryon, the last Royal governor of New York, informed -of a resolution of the Continental Congress: "That it be recommended -to the several provincial assemblies in conventions and councils, -or committees of safety, to arrest and secure every person in their -respective colonies whose going at large may, in their opinion, -endanger the safety of the colony or the liberties of America," -discerning the signs of the times, took refuge on board the Halifax -packet in the harbor, and left the city in the middle of October, 1775. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - EMANCIPATION FROM BRITISH DEPENDENCE. - - BY PHILIP FRENEAU. - - _Libera nos, Domine_--Deliver us, O Lord, - Not only from British dependence, but also, - - - From a junto that labor for absolute power, - Whose schemes disappointed have made them look sour; - From the lords of the council, who fight against freedom - Who still follow on where delusion shall lead 'em. - - From groups at St. James's who slight our Petitions, - And fools that are waiting for further submissions; - From a nation whose manners are rough and abrupt, - From scoundrels and rascals whom gold can corrupt. - - From pirates sent out by command of the king - To murder and plunder, but never to swing; - From Wallace, and Graves, and _Vipers_, and _Roses_, - Whom, if Heaven pleases, we'll give bloody noses. - - From the valiant Dunmore, with his crew of banditti - Who plunder Virginians at Williamsburg city, - From hot-headed Montague, mighty to swear, - The little fat man with his pretty white hair. - - From bishops in Britain, who butchers are grown, - From slaves that would die for a smile from the throne, - From assemblies that vote against Congress' proceedings, - (Who now see the fruit of their stupid misleadings). - - From Tryon, the mighty, who flies from our city, - And swelled with importance, disdains the committee; - (But since he is pleased to proclaim us his foes, - What the devil care we where the devil he goes.) - - From the caitiff, Lord North, who would bind us in chains, - From our noble King Log, with his toothful of brains, - Who dreams, and is certain (when taking a nap) - He has conquered our lands as they lay on his map. - - From a kingdom that bullies, and hectors, and swears. - I send up to Heaven my wishes and prayers - That we, disunited, may freemen be still, - And Britain go on--to be damn'd if she will. - - 1775 - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. - -BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. - - - Listen, my children, and you shall hear - Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, - On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; - Hardly a man is now alive - Who remembers that famous day and year. - - He said to his friend: "If the British march - By land or sea from the town to-night, - Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch - Of the North Church tower as a signal light,-- - One, if by land, and two, if by sea; - And I on the opposite shore will be, - Ready to ride and spread the alarm - Through every Middlesex village and farm, - For the country folk to be up and to arm." - - Then he said "Good-night," and with muffled oar - Silently row'd to the Charlestown shore, - Just as the moon rose over the bay, - Where swinging wide at her moorings lay - -[Illustration] - - The _Somerset_, British man-of-war; - A phantom ship, with each mast and spar - Across the moon like a prison bar, - And a huge black hulk, that was magnified - By its own reflection in the tide. - - Meanwhile his friend, through alley and street, - Wanders and watches with eager ears, - Till in the silence around him he hears - The muster of men at the barrack-door, - The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, - And the measured tread of the grenadiers - Marching down to their boats on the shore. - - Then he clim'd the tower of the Old North Church, - By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, - To the belfry-chamber overhead, - And startled the pigeons from their perch - On the sombre rafters, that round him made - Masses and moving shapes of shade,-- - By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, - To the highest window in the wall, - Where he paused to listen and look down - A moment on the roofs of the town, - And the moonlight flowing over all. - - Beneath, in the churchyard lay the dead, - In their night-encampment on the hill, - Wrapp'd in silence so deep and still - That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, - The watchful night-wind, as it went - Creeping along from tent to tent, - And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" - A moment only he feels the spell - Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread - Of the lonely belfry and the dead; - For suddenly all his thoughts are bent - On a shadowy something far away, - Where the river widens to meet the bay,-- - A line of black that bends and floats - On the rising tide like a bridge of boats. - - Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, - Booted and spurr'd, with a heavy stride - On the opposite shore walk'd Paul Revere. - Now he patted his horse's side, - Now gazed at the landscape far and near, - Then, impetuous, stamp'd the earth, - And turn'd and tighten'd his saddle-girth; - But mostly he watch'd with eager search - The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, - As it rose above the graves on the hill, - Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. - And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height - A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! - He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, - But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight - A second lamp in the belfry burns. - - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, - A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, - And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing a spark - Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; - That was all; and yet, through the gloom and the light - The fate of a nation was riding that night; - And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight - Kindled the land into flame with its heat. - - He has left the village and mounted the steep, - And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, - Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides, - And under the alders that skirt its edge, - Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, - Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. - It was twelve by the village clock - When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. - He heard the crowing of the cock, - And the barking of the farmer's dog, - And felt the damp of the river's fog, - That rises after the sun goes down. - - It was one by the village clock - When he galloped into Lexington. - He saw the gilded weathercock - Swim in the moonlight as he pass'd, - And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, - Gaze at him with spectral glare, - As if they already stood aghast - At the bloody work they would look upon. - - It was two by the village clock - When he came to the bridge in Concord town, - He heard the bleating of the flock, - And the twitter of birds among the trees, - And felt the breath of the morning breeze - Blowing over the meadows brown. - And one was safe and asleep in his bed - Who at the bridge would be first to fall. - Who that day would be lying dead, - Pierced by a British musket-ball. - - You know the rest: in the books you have read, - How the British regulars fired and fled,-- - How the farmers gave them ball for ball, - From behind each fence and farmyard wall, - Chasing the red-coats down the lane, - Then crossing the fields to emerge again - Under the trees at the turn of the road, - And only pausing to fire and load. - - So through the night rode Paul Revere, - And so through the night went his cry of alarm - To every Middlesex village and farm,-- - A cry of defiance, and not of fear, - A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, - And a word that shall echo for evermore! - For, borne on the night-wind of the past, - Through all our history to the last, - In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, - The people will waken and listen to hear - The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, - And the midnight message of Paul Revere. - -[Illustration] - - - - -WARREN'S ADDRESS. - -BY JOHN PIERPONT. - - - Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! - Will ye give it up to slaves? - Will ye look for greener graves? - Hope ye mercy still? - What's the mercy despots feel? - Hear it in that battle peal! - Read it on yon bristling steel! - Ask it,--ye who will. - - Fear ye foes who kill for hire? - Will ye to your homes retire? - Look behind you!--they're afire! - And, before you, see - Who have done it! From the vale - On they come!--and will ye quail? - Leaden rain and iron hail - Let their welcome be! - - In the God of battles trust! - Die we may,--and die we must: - But, oh where can dust to dust - Be consign'd so well, - As where Heaven its dews shall shed - On the martyr'd patriot's bed, - And the rocks shall raise their head - Of his deeds to tell? - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -NATHAN HALE. - -BY FRANCIS M. FINCH. - - - To drum-beat and heart-beat, - A soldier marches by; - There is color in his cheek, - There is courage in his eye, - Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat - In a moment he must die. - - By starlight and moonlight, - He seeks the Briton's camp; - He hears the rustling flag, - And the armèd sentry's tramp; - And the starlight and moonlight - His silent wanderings lamp. - - With slow tread and still tread, - He scans the tented line; - And he counts the battery guns, - By the gaunt and shadowy pine; - And his slow tread and still tread - Gives no warning sign. - - The dark wave, the plumed wave, - It meets his eager glance; - And it sparkles 'neath the stars, - Like the glimmer of a lance-- - A dark wave, a plumed wave, - On an emerald expanse. - - A sharp clang, a still clang, - And terror in the sound! - For the sentry, falcon-eyed, - In the camp a spy hath found; - With a sharp clang, a steel clang, - The patriot is bound. - - With calm brow, steady brow, - He listens to his doom; - In his look there is no fear, - Nor a shadow-trace of gloom; - But with calm brow and steady brow - He robes him for the tomb. - - In the long night, the still night, - He kneels upon the sod; - And the brutal guards withhold - E'en the solemn word of God! - In the long night, the still night, - He walks where Christ hath trod. - - 'Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn, - He dies upon the tree; - And he mourns that he can lose - But one life for Liberty; - And in the blue morn, the sunny morn, - His spent wings are free. - - But his last words, his message-words, - They burn, lest friendly eye - Should read how proud and calm - A patriot could die, - With his last words, his dying words, - A soldier's battle-cry. - - From Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf, - From monument and urn, - The sad of earth, the glad of heaven, - His tragic fate shall learn; - And on Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf - The name of HALE shall burn! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BALLAD OF NATHAN HALE. - -(Moore's "Songs and Ballads of the American Revolution." 1856.) - - - The breezes went steadily through the tall pines, - A-saying "oh! hu-ush!" a-saying "oh! hu-ush!" - 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 lurking-place, - To make his retreat; to make his retreat. - - He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves, - As he passed through the wood, as he passed through the wood; - And silently gained his rude launch on the shore, - As she played with the flood; as she played with the flood. - - The guards 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 soon must die; for he soon must die." - - The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrained,-- - The cruel general! the cruel general!-- - His errand from camp, of the ends to be gained, - 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. - 'T was 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 prayed for his mother, he asked not another, - To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went. - - The faith of a martyr the tragedy showed, - As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage. - And Britons will shudder at gallant Hale'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." - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BATTLE OF TRENTON - -(From Griswold's "Curiosities of American literature." 1843.) - - - On Christmas-day in seventy-six, - Our ragged troops, with bayonets fixed, - For Trenton marched away. - The Delaware see! the boats below! - The light obscured by hail and snow! - But no signs of dismay. - - Our object was the Hessian band, - That dared invade fair freedom's land, - And quarter in that place. - Great Washington he led us on, - Whose streaming flag, in storm or sun; - Had never known disgrace. - - In silent march we passed the night, - Each soldier panting for the fight, - Though quite benumbed with frost. - Greene on the left at six began, - The right was led by Sullivan - Who ne'er a moment lost. - - Their pickets stormed, the alarm was spread, - That rebels risen from the dead - Were marching into town. - Some scampered here, some scampered there, - And some for action did prepare; - But soon their arms laid down. - - Twelve hundred servile miscreants, - With all their colors, guns, and tents, - Were trophies of the day. - The frolic o'er, the bright canteen, - In centre, front, and rear was seen - Driving fatigue away. - - Now, brothers of the patriot bands, - Let's sing deliverance from the hands - Of arbitrary sway. - And as our life is but a span, - Let's touch the tankard while we can. - In memory of that day. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Fate of JOHN BURGOYNE - -(From Griswold's "Curiosities of American Literature.") - - - When Jack the king's commander - Was going to his duty, - Through all the crowd he smiled and bowed - To every blooming beauty. - - The city rung with feats he'd done - In Portugal and Flanders, - And all the town thought he'd be crowned - The first of Alexanders. - - To Hampton Court he first repairs - To kiss great George's hand, sirs; - Then to harangue on state affairs - Before he left the land, sirs. - - The "Lower House" sat mute as mouse - To hear his grand oration; - And "all the peers," with loudest cheers, - Proclaimed him to the nation. - - Then off he went to Canada, - Next to Ticonderoga, - And quitting those away he goes - Straightway to Saratoga. - - With great parade his march he made - To gain his wished-for station, - While far and wide his minions hied - To spread his "Proclamation." - - To such as stayed he offers made - Of "pardon on submission; - But savage bands should waste the lands - Of all in opposition." - - But ah, the cruel fates of war! - This boasted son of Britain, - When mounting his triumphal car, - With sudden fear was smitten. - - The sons of Freedom gathered round, - His hostile bands confounded, - And when they'd fain have turned their back - They found themselves surrounded! - - In vain they fought, in vain they fled; - Their chief, humane and tender, - To save the rest soon thought it best - His forces to surrender. - - Brave St. Clair, when he first retired, - Knew what the fates portended; - And Arnold and heroic Gates - His conduct have defended. - - Thus may America's brave sons - With honor be rewarded, - And be the fate of all her foes - The same as here recorded. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG. - -(McCarty's National Song-Book.) - - - Said Burgoyne to his men, as they passed in review, - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! - These rebels their course very quickly will rue, - And fly as the leaves 'fore the autumn tempest flew, - When him who is your leader they know, boys! - They with, men have now to deal, - And we soon will make them feel-- - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! - That a loyal Briton's arm, and a loyal Briton's steel, - Can put to flight a rebel, as quick as other foe, boys! - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys! - - As to Sa-ra-tog' he came, thinking how to jo the game, - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! - He began to see the grubs, in the branches of his fame, - He began to have the trembles, lest a flash should be the flame - For which he had agreed his perfume to forego, boys! - No lack of skill, but fates, - Shall make us yield to Gates, - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! - The devils may have leagued, as you know, with the States, - But we never will be beat by any mortal foe, boys! - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, - Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -WAR AND WASHINGTON. - -(As sung during the Revolution.) - -BY JONATHAN MITCHELL SEWARD. - - - Vain Britons, boast no longer with proud indignity, - By land your conquering legions, your matchless strength at sea, - Since we, your braver sons incensed, our swords have girded on, - Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, for war and Washington. - - Urged on by North and vengeance those valiant champions came, - Loud bellowing Tea and Treason, and George was all on flame, - Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on, - And laugh at all their empty puffs, huzza for Washington! - - Still deaf to mild entreaties, still blind to England's good, - You have for thirty pieces betrayed your country's blood. - Like Esop's greedy cur you'll gain a shadow for your bone, - Yet find us fearful shades indeed inspired by Washington. - - Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehensible! - The blundering schemes of Britain their folly, pride, and zeal, - Like lions how ye growl and threat! mere asses have you shown, - And ye shall share an ass's fate, and drudge for Washington! - - Your dark unfathomed councils our weakest heads defeat, - Our children rout your armies, our boats destroy your fleet, - And to complete the dire disgrace, cooped up within a town, - You live the scorn of all our host, the slaves of Washington! - - Great Heaven! is this the nation whose thundering arms were hurled, - Through Europe, Afric, India? whose navy ruled a world? - The lustre of your former deeds, whole ages of renown, - Lost in a moment, or transferred to us and Washington! - - Yet think not thirst of glory unsheaths our vengeful swords - To rend your bands asunder, or cast away your cords, - 'Tis heaven-born freedom fires us all, and strengthens each brave son, - From him who humbly guides the plough, to god-like Washington. - - For this, oh could our wishes your ancient rage inspire, - Your armies should be doubled, in numbers, force, and fire. - Then might the glorious conflict prove which best deserved the boon, - America or Albion, a George or Washington! - - Fired with the great idea, our Fathers' shades would rise, - To view the stern contention, the gods desert their skies; - And Wolfe, 'midst hosts of heroes, superior bending down, - Cry out with eager transport, God save great Washington! - - Should George, too choice of Britons, to foreign realms apply, - And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy - Turk, Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all those powers in one, - While Adams guards our senate, our camp great Washington! - - Should warlike weapons fail us, disdaining slavish fears, - To swords we'll beat our ploughshares, our pruning-hooks to spears, - And rush, all desperate, on our foe, nor breathe till battle won, - Then shout, and shout America! and conquering Washington! - - Proud France should view with terror, and haughty Spain revere, - While every warlike nation would court alliance here; - And George, his minions trembling round, dismounting from his throne - Pay homage to America and glorious Washington! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -COLUMBIA. - -BY TIMOTHY DWIGHT. - -(From Kettell's "Specimens," 1829. Written during the author's service -as an army chaplain, 1777-78.) - - - Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, - The queen of the world, and the child of the skies; - Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, - While ages on ages thy splendor unfold, - Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, - Most fruitful thy soil most inviting thy clime; - Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, - Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame. - - To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire; - Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire; - Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, - And triumph pursue them, and glory attend, - A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws, - Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause; - On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise, - Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies. - - Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, - And the east see the morn hide the beams of her star. - New bards, and new sages, unrivalled shall soar - To fame unextinguished, when time is no more; - To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed, - Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind; - Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring - Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring. - - Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, - And genius and beauty in harmony blend; - The graces of form shall awake pure desire, - And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire; - Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined, - And virtue's bright image, instamped on the mind, - With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, - And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. - - Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, - The nations admire and the ocean obey; - Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, - And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. - As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow, - And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow; - While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled, - Hush the tumult of war and give peace to the world. - - Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, - From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed, - The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired; - The winds ceased to murmur; the thunders expired; - Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along, - And a voice as of angels, enchantingly sung: - "Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, - "The queen of the world, and the child of the skies." - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -TAXATION OF AMERICA. - -BY PETER ST. JOHN, OF NORWALK, CONN. - - -[In Moore's "Songs and Ballads of the Revolution," this poem bears -date as of 1765, but the references in it to Burgoyne's surrender, -to Brandywine, etc., indicate a much later date. It is possible -that a part of the poem was written and published about 1765, and -that additions making reference to revolutionary incidents were -made afterward. But, internal evidence renders even this assumption -improbable, and suggests that the date Moore gives is the result of -some mistake.--EDITOR.] - - While I relate my story, - Americans give ear; - Of Britain's fading glory - You presently shall hear; - I'll give a true relation, - Attend to what I say - Concerning the taxation - Of North America. - - The cruel lords of Britain, - Who glory in their shame, - The project they have hit on - They joyfully proclaim; - 'Tis what they're striving after - Our right to take away, - And rob us of our charter - In North America. - - There are two mighty speakers, - Who rule in Parliament, - Who ever have been seeking - Some mischief to invent; - 'Twas North, and Bute his father, - The horrid plan did lay - A mighty tax to gather - In North America. - - They searched the gloomy regions - Of the infernal pit, - To find among their legions - One who excelled in wit; - To ask of him assistance, - Or tell them how they may - Subdue without resistance - This North America. - - Old Satan the arch-traitor, - Who rules the burning lake, - Where his chief navigator, - Resolved a voyage to take; - For the Britannic ocean - He launches far away, - To land he had no notion - In North America. - - He takes his seat in Britain, - It was his soul's intent - Great George's throne to sit on - And rule the Parliament; - His comrades were pursuing - A diabolic way, - For to complete the ruin - Of North America. - - He tried the art of magic - To bring his schemes about, - At length the gloomy project - He artfully found out; - The plan was long indulgèd - In a clandestine way, - But lately was divulgèd - In North America. - - These subtle arch-combiners - Addressed the British court, - All three were undersigners - Of this obscure report-- - There is a pleasant landscape - That lieth far away - Beyond the wide Atlantic, - In North America. - - There is a wealthy people, - Who sojourn in that land, - Their churches all with steeples - Most delicately stand: - Their houses like the gilly, - Are painted red and gay: - They flourish like the lily - In North America. - - Their land with milk and honey - Continually doth flow, - The want of food or money - They seldom ever know: - They heap up golden treasure, - They have no debts to pay, - They spend their time in pleasure - In North America. - - On turkeys, fowls, and fishes, - Most frequently they dine, - With gold and silver dishes - Their tables always shine. - They crown their feasts with butter, - They eat, and rise to play; - In silks their ladies flutter, - In North America. - - With gold and silver laces - They do themselves adorn, - The rubies deck their faces, - Refulgent as the morn: - Wine sparkles in their glasses, - They spend each happy day - In merriment and dances - In North America. - - Let not our suit affront you, - When we address your throne; - O King, this wealthy country - And subjects are your own, - And you, their rightful sovereign - They truly must obey, - You have a right to govern - This North America. - - O King, you've heard the sequel - Of what we now subscribe: - Is it not just and equal - To tax this wealthy tribe? - The question being askèd, - His majesty did say, - My subjects shall be taxèd - In North America. - - Invested with a warrant, - My publicans shall go, - The tenth of all their current - They surely shall bestow; - If they indulge rebellion, - Or from my precepts stray, - I'll send my war battalion - To North America. - - I'll rally all my forces - By water and by land, - My light dragoons and horses - Shall go at my command; - I'll burn both town and city, - With smoke becloud the day, - I'll show no human pity - For North America. - - Go on, my hearty soldiers, - You need not fear of ill-- - There's Hutchinson and Rogers, - Their functions will fulfill-- - They tell such ample stories, - Believe them sure we may, - One half of them are tories - In North America. - - My gallant ships are ready - To waft you o'er the flood, - And in my cause be steady, - Which is supremely good. - Go ravage, steal, and plunder, - And you shall have the prey; - They quickly will knock under - In North America. - - The laws I have enacted - I never will revoke, - Although they are neglected, - My fury to provoke. - I will forbear to flatter, - I'll rule the mighty sway, - I'll take away the charter - From North America. - - O George! you are distracted, - You'll by experience find - The laws you have enacted - Are of the blackest kind. - I'll make a short digression, - And tell you by the way, - We fear not your oppression - In North America. - - Our fathers were distressèd - While in their native land; - By tyrants were oppressèd - As we do understand; - For freedom and religion - They were resolved to stray, - And trace the desert regions - Of North America. - - Heaven was their sole protector - While on the roaring tide, - Kind fortune their director, - And providence their guide. - If I am not mistaken, - About the first of May, - This voyage was undertaken - For North America. - - If rightly I remember, - This country to explore, - They landed in November - On Plymouth's desert shore. - The savages were nettled, - With fear they fled away, - So peaceably they settled - In North America. - - We are their bold descendants, - For liberty we'll fight, - The claim to independence - We challenge as our right; - 'T is what kind Heaven gave us, - Who can take it away? - O Heaven, sure it will save us - In North America. - - We never will knock under, - O George! we do not fear - The rattling of your thunder, - Nor lightning of your spear; - Though rebels you declare us, - We're strangers to dismay; - Therefore you cannot scare us - In North America. - - To what you have commanded - We never will consent, - Although your troops are landed - Upon our continent; - We'll take our swords and muskets, - And march in dread array, - And drive the British red-coats - From North America. - - We have a bold commander, - Who fears not sword or gun, - The second Alexander, - His name is Washington. - His men are all collected, - And ready for the fray, - To fight they are directed - For North America. - - We've Greene, and Gates, and Putnam, - To manage in the field, - A gallant train of footmen, - Who'd rather die than yield; - A stately troop of horsemen - Trained in a martial way, - For to augment our forces - In North America. - - Proud George, you are engagèd - All in a dirty cause, - A cruel war have wagèd - Repugnant to all laws. - Go tell the savage nations - You're crueler than they, - To fight your own relations - In North America. - - Ten millions you've expended, - And twice ten millions more; - Our riches you intended - Should pay the mighty score. - Who now will stand your sponsor, - Your charges to defray? - For sure you cannot conquer - This North America. - - I'll tell you, George, in metre, - If you'll attend awhile; - We've forced your bold Sir Peter - From Sullivan's fair isle. - At Monmouth, too, we gainèd - The honors of the day-- - The victory we obtainèd - For North America. - - Surely we were your betters - Hard by the Brandywine; - We laid him fast in fetters - Whose name was John Burgoyne; - We made your Howe to tremble - With terror and dismay; - True heroes we resemble, - In North America. - - Confusion to the tories, - That black infernal name - In which Great Britain glories, - Forever to her shame; - We'll send each foul revolter - To smutty Africa, - Or noose him in a halter - In North America. - - A health to our brave footmen, - Who handle sword and gun, - To Greene, and Gates, and Putnam, - And conquering Washington; - Their names be wrote in letters - Which never will decay, - While sun and moon do glitter - On North America. - - Success unto our allies - In Holland, France, and Spain, - Who man their ships and galleys, - Our freedom to maintain; - May they subdue the rangers - Of proud Britannia, - And drive them from their anchors - In North America. - - Success unto the Congress - Of these United States, - Who glory in the conquests - Of Washington and Gates; - To all, both land and seamen, - Who glory in the day - When we shall all be freemen - In North America. - - Success to legislation, - That rules with gentle hand, - To trade and navigation - By water and by land. - May all with one opinion - Our wholesome laws obey, - Throughout this vast dominion - Of North America. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS. - -BY FRANCIS HOPKINSON. - -(From "The Miscellaneous Essays and Occasional Writings," 1792.) - - -[This ballad was occasioned by a real incident. Certain machines in -the form of kegs, charged with gunpowder, were sent down the river to -annoy the British shipping then at Philadelphia. The danger of these -machines being discovered, the British manned the wharfs and shipping, -and discharged their small-arms and cannons at every thing they saw -floating in the river during the ebb tide.--AUTHOR'S NOTE.] - - Gallants attend and hear a friend - Trill forth harmonious ditty, - Strange things I'll tell which late befell - In Philadelphia city. - - 'T was early day, as poets say, - Just when the sun was rising, - A soldier stood on a log of wood, - And saw a thing surprising. - - As in amaze he stood to gaze, - The truth can't be denied, sir, - He spied a score of kegs or more - Come floating down the tide, sir. - - A sailor, too, in jerkin blue, - This strange appearance viewing, - First damned his eyes, in great surprise, - Then said: "Some mischief's brewing. - - "These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold, - Packed up like pickled herring; - And they're come down to attack the town, - In this new way of ferrying." - - The soldier flew, the sailor too, - And scared almost to death, sir, - Wore out their shoes, to spread the news, - And ran till out of breath, sir. - - Now up and down throughout the town, - Most frantic scenes were acted; - And some ran here, and others there, - Like men almost distracted. - - Some fire cried, which some denied, - But said the earth had quakèd; - And girls and boys, with hideous noise, - Ran through the streets half nakèd. - - Sir William he, snug as a flea, - Lay all this time a snoring, - Nor dreamed of harm as he lay warm, - - * * * * * - - Now in a fright, he starts upright, - Awaked by such a clatter; - He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries: - For God's sake, what's the matter? - - At his bedside he then espied, - Sir Erskine at command, sir, - Upon one foot he had one boot, - And th' other in his hand, sir. - - "Arise, arise," Sir Erskine cries, - "The rebels--more's the pity, - Without a boat are afloat, - And ranged before the city. - - "The motley crew, in vessels new, - With Satan for their guide, sir, - Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs, - Come driving down the tide, sir. - - "Therefore prepare for bloody war, - These kegs must all be routed - Or surely we despised shall be, - And British courage doubted." - - The royal band now ready stand - All ranged in dread array, sir, - With stomach stout to see it out, - And make a bloody day, sir. - - The cannons roar from shore to shore, - The small arms make a rattle; - Since wars began I'm sure no man - E'er saw so strange a battle. - - The rebel dales, the rebel vales - With rebel trees surrounded, - The distant woods, the hills and floods, - With rebel echoes sounded. - - The fish below swam to and fro, - Attacked from every quarter; - Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay, - 'Mongst folks above the water. - - The kegs, 't is said, though strongly made, - Of rebel staves and hoops, sir, - Could not oppose their powerful foes, - The conquering British troops, sir. - - From morn to night these men of might - Displayed amazing courage; - And when the sun was fairly down, - Retired to sup their porridge. - - A hundred men with each a pen, - Or more upon my word, sir, - It is most true would be too few, - Their valor to record, sir. - - Such feats did they perform that day, - Against these wicked kegs, sir, - That years to come, if they get home, - They'll make their boasts and brags, sir. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -CARMEN BELLICOSUM. - -BY GUY HUMPHREY MCMASTER. - - - In their ragged regimentals - Stood the old Continentals, - Yielding not, - When the grenadiers were lunging, - And like hail fell the plunging - Cannon shot; - When the files - Of the isles - From the smoky night-encampment bore the banner of the rampant - Unicorn, - And grummer, grummer, grummer rolled the roll of the drummer, - Through the morn! - - Then with eyes to the front all, - And with guns horizontal - Stood our sires; - And the balls whistled deadly, - And in streams flashing redly - Blazed the fires; - As the roar - On the shore, - Swept the strong battle breakers o'er the green sodded acres - Of the plain; - And louder, louder, louder cracked the black gunpowder, - Cracking amain! - - Now like smiths at their forges - Worked the red Saint George's - Cannoneers; - And the "villainous saltpetre" - Rung a fierce, discordant metre - Round their ears; - As the swift - Storm drift, - With hot, sweeping anger, came the horse guard's clangor - On our flanks. - Then higher, higher, higher burned the old-fashioned fire - Through the ranks! - - Then the old-fashioned colonel - Galloped through the white, infernal - Powder cloud; - And his broad sword was swinging, - And his brazen throat was ringing - Trumpet loud. - Then the blue - Bullets flew - And the trooper jackets redden at the touch of the leaden - Rifle breath; - And rounder, rounder, rounder roared the iron six-pounder - Hurling death! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE YANKEE MAN-OF-WAR. - - -[Descriptive of the daring bravery of Captain John Paul Jones, in his -cruise in the Irish Channel in 1778.] - -(From Admiral Luce's "Naval Songs.") - - 'Tis of a gallant Yankee ship that flew the stripes and stars, - And the whistling wind from the west-nor'-west blew through the pitch-pine spars,-- - With her starboard tacks a-board, my boys, she hung upon the gale, - On an autumn night we raised the light on the old head of Kinsale. - - It was a clear and cloudless night, and the wind blew steady and strong, - As gaily over the sparkling deep our good ship bowled along; - With the foaming seas beneath her bow the fiery waves she spread, - And bending low her bosom of snow, she buried her lee cat-head. - - There was no talk of shortening sail by him who walked the poop, - And under the press of her pond'ring jib, the boom bent like a hoop! - And the groaning water-ways told the strain that held her stout main-tack, - But he only laughed as he glanced aloft at a white and silv'ry track. - - The mid-tide meets in the channel waves that flow from shore to shore, - And the mist hung heavy upon the land from Featherstone to Dunmore, - And that sterling light in Tusker Rock where the old bell tolls each hour, - And the beacon light that shone so bright was quench'd on Waterford Tower. - - The nightly robes our good ship wore were her three topsails set - Her spanker and her standing jib--the courses being fast; - "Now, lay aloft! my heroes bold, let not a moment pass!" - And royals and top-gallant sails were quickly on each mast. - - What looms upon our starboard bow? What hangs upon the breeze? - 'Tis time our good ship hauled her wind a-breast the old Saltee's, - For by her ponderous press of sail and by her consorts four - We saw our morning visitor was a British man-of-war. - - Up spake our noble Captain then, as a shot ahead of us past-- - "Haul snug your flowing courses! lay your topsail to the mast!" - Those Englishmen gave three loud hurrahs from the deck of their covered ark, - And we answered back by a solid broadside from the decks of our patriot bark. - - "Out booms! out booms!" our skipper cried, "out booms and give her sheet," - And the swiftest keel that was ever launched shot ahead of the British fleet, - And a-midst a thundering shower of shot with stun'-sails hoisting away, - Down the North Channel Paul Jones did steer just at the break of day. - -[Illustration: - - - - -PAUL JONES' VICTORY] - -(Battle between the _Bon Homme Richard_ and the _Serapis_, September -23, 1779.) - - - An American Frigate:--a frigate of fame, - With guns mounting forty, _The Richard_ by name, - Sailed to cruise in the channels of old England, - With a valiant commander, Paul Jones was his name. - Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country forever, Hurrah! - - We had not cruised long, before he espies - A large forty-four, and a twenty likewise; - Well manned with bold seamen, well laid in with stores, - In consort to drive us from old England's shores. - Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country forever, Hurrah! - - About twelve at noon, Pearson came alongside, - With a loud speaking trumpet, "Whence came you?" he cried: - "Return me an answer--I hailed you before, - Or if you do not, a broadside I'll pour." Hurrah! - - Paul Jones then said to his men, every one, - "Let every true seaman stand firm to his gun! - We'll receive a broadside from this bold Englishman, - And like true Yankee sailors, return it again." Hurrah! - - The contest was bloody, both decks ran with gore, - And the sea seemed to blaze, while the cannon did roar. - "Fight on, my brave boys," then Paul Jones he cried, - "And soon we will humble this bold Englishman's pride." Hurrah! - - "Stand firm to your quarters--your duty don't shun, - The first one that shrinks, through the body I'll run, - Though their force is superior, yet they shall know, - What true, brave American seamen can do." Hurrah! - - The battle rolled on, till bold Pearson cried: - "Have you yet struck your colors? then come alongside!" - But so far from thinking that the battle was won, - Brave Paul Jones replied: "I've not yet begun!" Hurrah! - - We fought them eight glasses, eight glasses so hot, - Till seventy bold seamen lay dead on the spot. - And ninety brave seamen lay stretched in their gore, - While the pieces of cannon most fiercely did roar. - - Our gunner, in great fright to Captain Jones came, - "We gain water quite fast and our side's in a flame." - Then Paul Jones said in the height of his pride: - "If we cannot do better, boys, sink alongside!" - - The _Alliance_ bore down, and the _Richard_ did rake, - Which caused the bold hearts of our seamen to ache: - Our shots flew so hot that they could not stand us long, - And the undaunted Union-of-Britain came down. - - To us they did strike and their colors hauled down; - The fame of Paul Jones to the world shall be known, - His name shall rank with the gallant and brave, - Who fought like a hero--our freedom to save. - - Now all valiant seamen where'er you may be, - Who hear of this combat that's fought on the sea, - May you all do like them, when called to do the same, - And your names be enrolled on the pages of fame. - - Your country will boast of her sons that are brave, - And to you she will look from all dangers to save, - She'll call you dear sons, in her annals you'll shine, - And the brows of the brave shall green laurels entwine. - - So now, my brave boys, have we taken a prize-- - A large 44, and a 20 likewise! - Then God bless the mother whose doom is to weep - The loss of her sons in the ocean so deep. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE ROYAL ADVENTURER. - -BY PHILIP FRENEAU. - - -[In the year 1781, Prince William Henry (afterward William IV.), third -son of George III., came to New York as a midshipman, accompanied -by Admiral Digby. The tory authorities of the city overwhelmed the -boy--he was just sixteen years old--with adulation, recording it as -their conviction that his gracious presence in the country would shame -the patriots out of their rebellion and win them to submission and -loyalty.--EDITOR.] - - Prince William, of the Brunswick race, - To witness George's sad disgrace - The royal lad came over, - Rebels to kill, by right divine-- - Derived from that industrious line, - The beggars of Hanover. - - So many chiefs got broken pates - In vanquishing the rebel states, - So many nobles fell, - That George the Third in passion cried: - "Our royal blood must now be tried; - 'Tis that must break the spell; - - "To you [the fat pot-valiant swain - To Digby said], dear friend of mine, - To you I trust my boy; - The rebel tribes shall quake with fears, - Rebellion die when he appears, - My tories leap with joy." - - So said, so done--the lad was sent, - But never reached the continent, - An island held him fast-- - Yet there his friends danced rigadoons, - The Hessians sung in high Dutch tunes, - "Prince William's come at last!" - - "Prince William's come!"--the Briton cried-- - "Our labors now will be repaid-- - Dominion be restored-- - Our monarch is in William seen, - He is the image of our queen, - Let William be adored!" - - The tories came with long address, - With poems groaned the royal press, - And all in William's praise-- - The youth, astonished, looked about - To find their vast dominions out, - Then answered in amaze: - - "Where all your vast domain can be, - Friends, for my soul I cannot see; - 'Tis but an empty name; - Three wasted islands and a town - In rubbish buried--half burnt down, - Is all that we can claim; - - "I am of royal birth, 'tis true, - But what, my sons, can princes do, - No armies to command? - Cornwallis conquered and distrest-- - Sir Henry Clinton grown a jest-- - I curse--and quit the land." - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -EUTAW SPRINGS. - - TO THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE AMERICANS, UNDER GENERAL GREENE, IN - SOUTH CAROLINA, WHO FELL IN THE ACTION OF SEPTEMBER 8, 1781, AT - EUTAW SPRINGS. - -BY PHILIP FRENEAU. - - - At Eutaw Springs the valiant died: - Their limbs with dust are covered o'er-- - Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide; - How many heroes are no more! - - If in this wreck of ruin they - Can yet be thought to claim a tear, - O smite thy gentle breast, and say - The friends of freedom slumber here! - - Thou who shalt trace this bloody plain, - If goodness rules thy generous breast, - Sigh for the wasted, rural reign; - Sigh for the shepherds, sunk to rest! - - Stranger, their humble graves adorn; - You too may fall and ask a tear; - 'Tis not the beauty of the morn - That proves the evening shall be clear-- - - They saw their injured country's woe; - The flaming town, the wasted field; - Then rushed to meet the insulting foe; - They took the spear,--but left the shield. - - Led by thy conquering genius, Greene, - The Britons they compelled to fly; - None distant viewed the fatal plain, - None grieved, in such a cause to die-- - - But, like the Parthian, famed of old, - Who, flying still their arrows threw; - These routed Britons, full as bold, - Retreated, and retreating slew. - - Now rest in peace, our patriot band; - Though far from Nature's limits thrown, - We trust they find a happier land, - A brighter sunshine of their own. - -[Illustration] - - - - -AN ANCIENT PROPHECY. - -BY PHILIP FRENEAU. - -(Written soon after the surrender of Cornwallis.) - - - When a certain great King, whose initial is G., - Forces stamps upon paper and folks to drink tea; - When these folks burn his tea and stampt-paper, like stubble, - You may guess that this King is then coming to trouble. - - But when a Petition he treads under feet, - And sends over the ocean an army and fleet, - When that army, half famished, and frantic with rage, - Is cooped up with a leader whose name rhymes to _cage_; - When that leader goes home, dejected and sad; - You may then be assur'd the King's prospects are bad. - - But when B. and C. with their armies are taken - This King will do well if he saves his own bacon: - In the year Seventeen hundred and eighty and two - A stroke he shall get, that will make him look blue; - And soon, very soon, shall the season arrive, - When Nebuchadnezzar to pasture shall drive. - - In the year eighty-three, the affair will be over - And he shall eat turnips that grow in Hanover; - The face of the Lion will then become pale, - He shall yield fifteen teeth and be sheared of his tail-- - O King, my dear King, you shall be very sore, - From the _Stars_ and the _Stripes_ you will mercy implore, - And your Lion shall growl, but hardly bite more.-- - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE DANCE. - -(Published soon after the surrender of Cornwallis.) - - - Cornwallis led a country dance, - The like was never seen, sir, - Much retrograde and much advance, - And all with General Greene, sir. - - They rambled up and rambled down, - Joined hands, then off they run, sir, - Our General Greene to Charlestown, - The earl to Wilmington, sir. - - Greene in the South then danced a set, - And got a mighty name, sir, - Cornwallis jigged with young Fayette, - But suffered in his fame, sir. - - Then down he figured to the shore, - Most like a lordly dancer, - And on his courtly honor swore - He would no more advance, sir. - - Quoth he, my guards are weary grown - With footing country dances, - They never at St. James's shone, - At capers, kicks or prances. - - Though men so gallant ne'er were seen, - While sauntering on parade, sir, - Or wriggling o'er the park's smooth green, - Or at a masquerade, sir. - - Yet are red heels and long-laced skirts, - For stumps and briars meet, sir? - Or stand they chance with hunting-shirts, - Or hardy veteran feet, sir? - - Now housed in York, he challenged all, - At minuet or all 'amande, - And lessons for a courtly ball - His guards by day and night conned. - - This challenge known, full soon there came, - A set who had the bon ton, - De Grasse and Rochambeau, whose fame - Fut brillant pour un long tems. - - And Washington, Columbia's son, - Whom easy nature taught, sir, - That grace which can't by pains be won, - Or Plutus's gold be bought, sir. - - Now hand in hand they circle round - This ever-dancing peer, sir; - Their gentle movements soon confound - The earl as they draw near, sir. - - His music soon forgets to play-- - His feet can move no more,[1] sir, - And all his bands now curse the day - They jiggèd to our shore, sir. - - Now Tories all, what can ye say? - Come--is not this a griper, - That while your hopes are danced away, - 'Tis you must pay the piper? - - 1781. - - [1] In all the versions of this poem examined by the editor this - line reads "His feet can no more move, sir"; but the reading is - so clearly wrong that it seems proper to amend it so that the - obviously intended rhyme between "more, sir" and "shore, sir" - shall appear. There is the greater justification for the taking of - this liberty of correction because the poem originally appeared in - carelessly edited contemporary prints.--EDITOR. - -[Illustration] - - - - -SONG OF MARION'S MEN. - -BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. - - -[A very interesting bit of literary history attaches to this poem. The -piece appeared in Mr. Bryant's first collected volume of poems about -1831. Mr. Bryant sent the volume, with a letter, to Washington Irving, -then in London, with whom he had no personal acquaintance, and invoked -his good offices in inducing Murray to bring out an English edition of -the work. The time being peculiarly unpropitious, Murray declined to -undertake the venture, but Irving found another publisher, and himself -introduced the volume in the most favorable manner, with a dedicatory -letter of his own. While passing the book through the press the -publisher observed in this poem the lines: - - "The British soldier trembles - When Marion's name is told," - -and assured Irving that he could not offer a work containing such -a statement to a British public. It was impossible to consult the -author, three thousand miles away, and Irving ventured to change the -objectionable passage so that it should read: - - "The foeman trembles in his camp - When Marion's name is told." - -There is no reason to believe that Mr. Bryant ever resented the liberty -or regarded it otherwise than as an act of friendly intervention; -but some years later William Leggett, who had long been Mr. Bryant's -editorial associate in the office of the _Evening Post_, but had -severed his connection with that paper, made a virulent assault upon -Irving in the _Plaindealer_ on account of the change he had made, even -going so far as to intimate that both that and his dealings with one -of his own works were dictated by mean sycophancy and cowardice on -Irving's part.--EDITOR.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - SONG OF MARION'S MEN. - - Our band is few, but true and tried, - Our leader frank and bold; - The British soldier trembles - When Marion's name is told. - Our fortress is the good greenwood, - Our tent the cypress tree; - We know the forest round us; - As seamen know the sea; - We know its walls of thorny vines, - Its glades of reedy grass, - Its safe and silent islands - Within the dark morass. - - Woe to the English soldiery - That little dread us near! - On them shall light at midnight - A strange and sudden fear; - When, waking to their tents on fire, - They grasp their arms in vain, - And they who stand to face us - Are beat to earth again; - And they who fly in terror deem - A mighty host behind, - And hear the tramp of thousands - Upon the hollow wind. - - Then sweet the hour that brings release - From danger and from toil; - We talk the battle over, - And share the battle's spoil. - The woodland rings with laugh and shout, - As if a hunt were up, - And woodland flowers are gathered - To crown the soldier's cup. - With merry songs we mock the wind - That in the pine-top grieves, - And slumber long and sweetly - On beds of oaken leaves. - - Well knows the fair and friendly moon - The band that Marion leads,-- - The glitter of their rifles, - The scampering of their steeds. - 'Tis life to guide the fiery barb - Across the moonlight plain; - 'Tis life to feel the night wind - That lifts his tossing mane. - A moment in the British camp-- - A moment--and away - Back to the pathless forest, - Before the peep of day. - - Grave men there are by broad Santee, - Grave men with hoary hairs; - Their hearts are all with Marion, - For Marion are their prayers. - And lovely ladies greet our band - With kindliest welcoming, - With smiles like those of summer, - And tears like those of spring. - For them we wear these trusty arms, - And lay them down no more - Till we have driven the Briton - Forever from our shore. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -HAIL COLUMBIA. - -BY JOSEPH HOPKINSON. - -(First sung at the Chestnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, in 1798.) - - -[This song was inspired by the troubles with France, which threatened -but did not actually result in open war. For convenience it is classed -with the ballads and lyrics of the Revolution, to the actors in which -its references point, though, strictly speaking, it belongs to none of -the groups into which this collection is divided.--EDITOR.] - - Hail! Columbia, happy land! - Hail! ye heroes, heav'n-born band, - Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, - Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, - And when the storm of war was gone, - Enjoyed the peace your valor won; - Let independence be your boast, - Ever mindful what it cost, - Ever grateful for the prize, - Let its altar reach the skies. - - _Chorus._ - - Firm, united let us be, - Rallying round our liberty, - As a band of brothers joined, - Peace and safety we shall find. - - Immortal patriots, rise once more! - Defend your rights, defend your shore; - Let no rude foe with impious hand, - Let no rude foe with impious hand - Invade the shrine where sacred lies - Of toil and blood the well-earned prize; - While offering peace, sincere and just, - In heav'n we place a manly trust, - That truth and justice may prevail, - And ev'ry scheme of bondage fail.--_Chorus._ - - Sound, sound the trump of fame! - Let Washington's great name - Ring thro' the world with loud applause! - Ring thro' the world with loud applause! - Let ev'ry clime to freedom dear - Listen with a joyful ear; - With equal skill, with steady pow'r, - He governs in the fearful hour - Of horrid war, or guides with ease - The happier time of honest peace.--_Chorus._ - - Behold the chief, who now commands, - Once more to serve his country stands, - The rock on which the storm will beat! - The rock on which the storm will beat! - But armed in virtue, firm and true, - His hopes are fixed on heav'n and you. - When hope was sinking in dismay, - When gloom obscured Columbia's day, - His steady mind, from changes free, - Resolved on death or liberty.--_Chorus._ - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: - - - - -THE WAR OF 1812-15] - -[Illustration: - - - - -_TRUXTON'S VICTORY_] - -(Action between the _Constellation_ and the _Insurgente_, 9 Feb., 1799.) - - -[This song and the one that follows it relate to a naval conflict of -1799, during the troubles which for a time threatened war between -France and the United States. As the second of the two songs was -written in 1813, and both were much sung at that period, it has been -thought best to present both of them where one properly belongs, -namely, among the poems of the last war with Great Britain.--EDITOR.] - - When Freedom, fair Freedom, her banner display'd, - Defying each foe whom her rights would invade, - Columbia's brave sons swore those rights to maintain, - And o'er ocean and earth to establish her reign; - United they cry, - While that standard shall fly, - Resolved, firm, and steady, - We always are ready - To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die. - - Tho' Gallia through Europe has rushed like a flood, - And deluged the earth with an ocean of blood: - While by faction she's led, while she's governed by knaves, - We court not her smiles, and will ne'er be her slaves; - Her threats we defy, - While our standard shall fly, - Resolved, firm, and steady, - We always are ready - To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die. - - Tho' France with caprice dares our Statesmen upbraid, - A tribute demands, or sets bounds to our trade; - From our young rising Navy our thunders shall roar, - And our Commerce extend to the earth's utmost shore. - Our cannon we'll ply, - While our standard shall fly; - Resolved, firm, and steady, - We always are ready - To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die. - - To know we're resolved, let them think on the hour, - When Truxton, brave Truxton off Nevis's shore, - His ship mann'd for battle, the standard unfurl'd, - And at the _Insurgente_ defiance he hurled; - And his valiant tars cry, - While our standard shall fly, - Resolved, firm, and steady, - We always are ready - To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die. - - Each heart beat exulting, inspir'd by the cause; - They fought for their country, their freedom and laws; - From their cannon loud volleys of vengeance they pour'd, - And the standard of France to Columbia was lower'd. - Huzza! they now cry, - Let the Eagle wave high; - Resolved, firm, and steady, - We always are ready - To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die. - - Then raise high the strain, pay the tribute that's due - To the fair _Constellation_, and all her brave Crew; - Be Truxton revered, and his name be enrolled, - 'Mongst the chiefs of the ocean, the heroes of old. - Each invader defy, - While such heroes are nigh, - Who always are ready, - Resolved, firm, and steady - To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE "CONSTELLATION" AND THE "INSURGENTE." - -(Action of 9 February, 1799.) - - - Come all ye Yankee sailors, with swords and pikes advance, - 'Tis time to try your courage and humble haughty France, - The sons of France our seas invade, - Destroy our commerce and our trade, - 'Tis time the reckoning should be paid! - To brave Yankee boys. - - On board the _Constellation_, from Baltimore we came, - We had a bold commander and Truxton was his name! - Our ship she mounted forty guns, - And on the main so swiftly runs, - To prove to France Columbia's sons - Are brave Yankee boys. - - We sailed to the West Indies in order to annoy - The invaders of our commerce, to burn, sink, and destroy; - Our _Constellation_ shone so bright, - The Frenchmen could not bear the sight, - And away they scamper'd in affright, - From the brave Yankee boys. - - 'Twas on the 9th of February, at Montserrat we lay, - And there we spy'd the _Insurgente_ just at the break of day, - We raised the orange and the blue, - To see if they our signals knew, - The _Constellation_ and her crew - Of brave Yankee boys. - - Then all hands were called to quarters, while we pursued in chase, - With well prim'd guns, our tompions out, well spliced the main brace. - Soon to the French we did draw nigh, - Compelled to fight, they were, or fly, - The word was passed, "CONQUER OR DIE," - My brave Yankee boys. - - Lord! our Cannons thunder'd with peals tremendous roar, - And death upon our bullets' wings that drenched their decks with gore, - The blood did from their scuppers run, - Their chief exclaimed, "We are undone!" - Their flag they struck, the battle won, - By the brave Yankee boys. - - Then to St. Kitts we steered, we bro't her safe in port, - The grand salute was fired and answered from the fort, - John Adams in full bumpers toast, - George Washington, Columbia's boast, - And now "the girl we love the most!" - My brave Yankee boys. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE WASP'S FROLIC. - -(Action of 18 October, 1812.) - - -[From "Naval Songster," 1815.] - - 'Twas on board the sloop-of-war _Wasp_ boys, - We set sail from Delaware Bay, - To cruise on Columbia's fair coast, sirs, - Our rights to maintain on the sea. - - Three days were not passed on our station, - When the _Frolic_ came up to our view; - Says Jones, "Show the flag of our nation"; - Three cheers were then gave by our crew. - - We boldly bore up to this Briton, - Whose cannon began for to roar; - The _Wasp_ soon her stings from her side ran, - When we on them a broadside did pour. - - Each sailor stood firm at his quarters, - 'Twas minutes past forty and three, - When fifty bold Britons were slaughter'd, - Whilst our guns swept their masts in the sea. - - Their breasts then with valor still glowing, - Acknowledged the battle we'd won, - On us then bright laurels bestowing, - When to leeward they fired a gun. - - On their decks we the twenty guns counted, - With a crew for to answer the same; - Eighteen was the number we mounted, - Being served by the lads of true game. - - With the _Frolic_ in tow, we were standing, - All in for Columbia's fair shore; - But fate on our laurels was frowning, - We were taken by a seventy-four. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -"CONSTITUTION" AND "GUERRIÈRE." - -(Action of 19 August, 1812.) - - - It oft times has been told, - That the British seamen bold, - Could flog the tars of France so neat and handy, oh! - But they never found their match, - Till the Yankees did them catch, - Oh, the Yankee boys for fighting are the dandy, oh! - - The _Guerrière_ a frigate bold, - On the foaming ocean rolled, - Commanded by proud Dacres, the grandee, oh! - With as choice a British crew, - As a rammer ever drew, - Could flog the Frenchmen two to one so handy, oh! - - When this frigate hove in view, - Says proud Dacres to his crew, - "Come clear ship for action and be handy, oh! - To the weather gage, boys, get her," - And to make his men fight better, - Gave them to drink gun-powder mixed with brandy, oh! - - Then Dacres loudly cries, - "Make this Yankee ship your prize, - You can in thirty minutes, neat and handy, oh! - Twenty-five's enough I'm sure, - And if you'll do it in a score, - I'll treat you to a double share of brandy, oh!" - - The British shot flew hot, - Which the Yankees answered not, - Till they got within the distance they called handy, oh! - "Now," says Hull unto his crew, - "Boys, let's see what we can do, - If we take this boasting Briton we're the dandy, oh!" - - The first broadside we pour'd - Carried her mainmast by the board, - Which made this loftly frigate look abandon'd, oh! - Then Dacres shook his head, - And to his officers said, - "Lord! I didn't think those Yankees were so handy, oh!" - - Our second told so well - That their fore and mizzen fell, - Which dous'd the Royal ensign neat and handy, oh! - "By George!" says he, "we're done," - And they fired a lee gun, - While the Yankees struck up Yankee Doodle Dandy, oh! - - Then Dacres came on board, - To deliver up his sword, - Tho' loth was he to part with it, it was so handy, oh! - "Oh keep your sword," says Hull, - "For it only makes you dull, - "Cheer up and take a little drink of brandy, oh!" - - Now, fill your glasses full, - And we'll drink to Captain Hull, - And so merrily we'll push about the brandy, oh! - John Bull may toast his fill, - But let the world say what they will, - The Yankee boys for fighting are the dandy, oh! - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE "UNITED STATES" AND "MACEDONIAN." - -(Action 25 of October, 1812.) - - - How glows each patriot bosom that boasts a Yankee heart, - To emulate such glorious deeds and nobly take a part; - When sailors with their thund'ring guns, - Prove to the English, French, and Danes - That Neptune's chosen fav'rite sons - Are brave Yankees boys. - - The twenty-fifth of October, that glorious happy day, - When we beyond all precedent, from Britons bore the sway,-- - 'Twas in the ship _United States_, - Four and forty guns the rates, - That she should rule, decreed the Fates, - And brave Yankee boys. - - Decatur and his hardy tars were cruising on the deep, - When off the Western Islands they to and fro did sweep, - The _Macedonian_ they espied, - "Huzza! bravo!" Decatur cried, - "We'll humble Britain's boasted pride, - My brave Yankee boys." - - The decks were cleared, the hammocks stowed, the boatswain pipes all hands, - The tompions out, the guns well sponged, the Captain now commands; - The boys who for their country fight, - Their words, "Free Trade and Sailor's Rights!" - Three times they cheered with all their might, - Those brave Yankee boys. - - Now chain-shot, grape, and langrage pierce through her oaken sides, - And many a gallant sailor's blood runs purpling in the tides; - While death flew nimbly o'er their decks, - Some lost their legs, and some their necks, - And Glory's wreath our ship be-decks, - For brave Yankee boys. - - My boys, the proud St. George's Cross, the stripes above it wave, - And busy are our gen'rous tars, the conquered foe to save, - Our Captain cries "Give me your hand," - Then of the ship who took command - But brave Yankee boys? - - Our enemy lost her mizzen, her main and fore-top-mast, - For ev'ry shot with death was winged, which slew her men so fast, - That they lost five to one in killed, - And ten to one their blood was spilled, - So Fate decreed and Heaven had willed, - For brave Yankee boys. - - Then homeward steered the captive ship, now safe in port she lies, - The old and young with rapture viewed our sailors' noble prize; - Through seas of wine their health we'll drink, - And wish them sweet-hearts, friends, and chink, - Who 'fore they'd strike, will nobly sink - Our brave Yankee boys. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE "UNITED STATES" AND "MACEDONIAN." - -(Action of 25 October, 1812.) - - - The banner of Freedom high floated unfurled, - While the silver-tipt surges in low homage curled, - Flashing bright round the bow of Decatur's brave bark, - In contest, an "eagle"--in chasing a "lark." - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - All canvas expanded to woo the coy gale, - The ship cleared for action, in chase of a sail; - The foemen in view, every bosom beats high, - All eager for conquest, or ready to die. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly. - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - Now havoc stands ready, with optics of flame, - And battle-hounds "strain on the start" for the game; - The blood demons rise on the surge for their prey, - While Pity, rejected, awaits the dread fray. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - The gay floating streamers of Britain appear, - Waving light on the breeze as the stranger we near; - And now could the quick-sighted Yankee discern - "_Macedonian_," emblazoned at large on her stern. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - She waited our approach, and the contest began, - But to waste ammunition is no Yankee plan; - In awful suspense every match was withheld, - While the bull-dogs of Britain incessantly yelled. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - Unawed by her thunders, alongside we came, - While the foe seemed enwrapped in a mantle of flame; - When, prompt to the word, such a flood we return, - That Neptune aghast, thought his trident would burn. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - Now the lightning of battle gleams horridly red, - With a tempest of iron and hail-storm of lead; - And our fire on the foe we so copiously poured, - His mizzen and topmasts soon went by the board. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - So fierce and so bright did our flashes aspire, - They thought that their cannon had set us on fire, - "The Yankee's in flames!"--every British tar hears, - And hails the false omen with three hearty cheers. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - In seventeen minutes they found their mistake, - And were glad to surrender and fall in our wake; - Her decks were with carnage and blood deluged o'er, - Where welt'ring in blood lay an hundred and four. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - But though she was made so completely a wreck, - With blood they had scarcely encrimsoned our deck; - Only five valiant Yankees in the contest were slain, - And our ship in five minutes was fitted again. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - Let Britain no longer lay claim to the seas, - For the trident of Neptune is ours, if we please, - While Hull and Decatur and Jones are our boast, - We dare their whole navy to come on our coast. - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - Rise, tars of Columbia!--and share in the fame, - Which gilds Hull's, Decatur's and Jones's bright name; - Fill a bumper, and drink, "Here's success to the cause, - But Decatur supremely deserves our applause." - The bold _United States_, - Which four-and-forty rates, - Shall ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, - Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -PERRY'S VICTORY. - -(Battle of Lake Erie, 10 September, 1813.) - - -[This ballad, clumsy as it is in construction, was very popular in its -day, mainly, perhaps, because of the peculiarly dramatic character of -the action it was written to celebrate.--EDITOR.] - - We sailed to and fro in Erie's broad lake, - To find British bullies or get into their wake, - When we hoisted our canvas with true Yankee speed, - And the brave Captain Perry our squadron did lead. - - We sailed thro' the lake, boys, in search of the foe, - In the cause of Columbia our brav'ry to show, - To be equal in combat was all our delight, - As we wished the proud Britons to know we could fight. - - And whether like Yeo, boys, they'd taken affright, - We could see not, nor find them by day or by night; - So cruising we went in a glorious cause, - In defence of our rights, our freedom, and laws. - - At length to our liking six sails hove in view, - Huzzah! says brave Perry, huzzah! says his crew, - And then for the chase, boys, with our brave little crew, - We fell in with the bullies and gave them "burgoo." - - Though the force was unequal, determined to fight, - We brought them to action before it was night; - We let loose our thunder, our bullets did fly, - "Now give them your shot, boys," our commander did cry. - - We gave them a broadside, our cannon to try, - "Well done," says brave Perry, "for quarter they'll cry, - Shot well home, my brave boys, they shortly shall see, - That quite brave as they are, still braver are we." - - Then we drew up our squadron, each man full of fight, - And put the proud Britons in a terrible plight, - The brave Perry's movements will prove fully as bold, - As the fam'd Admiral Nelson's prowess of old. - - The conflict was sharp, boys, each man to his guns, - For our country, her glory, the vict'ry was won, - So six sail (the whole fleet) was our fortune to take, - Here's a health to brave Perry, who governs the Lake. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - - - - -YANKEE THUNDERS. - - - Britannia's gallant streamers, - Float proudly o'er the tide, - And fairly wave Columbia's stripes, - In battle side by side. - And ne'er did bolder seamen meet, - Where ocean's surges pour; - O'er the tide now they ride, - While the bell'wing thunders roar, - While the cannon's fire is flashing fast, - And the bell'wing thunders roar. - - When Yankee meets the Briton, - Whose blood congenial flows, - By Heav'n created to be friends, - By fortune rendered foes; - Hard then must be the battle fray, - Ere well the fight is o'er; - Now they ride, side by side, - While the bell'wing thunders roar, - While her cannon's fire is flashing fast, - And the bell'wing thunders roar. - - Still, still, for noble England - Bold D'Acres' streamers fly; - And for Columbia, gallant Hull's - As proudly and as high; - Now louder rings the battle din, - And thick the volumes pour; - Still they ride, side by side, - While the bell'wing thunders roar, - While the cannon's fire is flashing fast, - And the bell'wing thunders roar. - - Why lulls Britannia's thunder, - That waked the wat'ry war? - Why stays the gallant _Guerrière_, - Whose streamers waved so fair? - That streamer drinks the ocean wave, - That warrior's fight is o'er! - Still they ride, side by side, - While the bell'wing thunders roar, - While the cannon's fire is flashing fast, - And the bell'wing thunders roar. - - Hark! 'tis the Briton's lee gun! - Ne'er bolder warrior kneeled! - And ne'er to gallant mariners - Did braver seamen yield. - Proud be the sires, whose hardy boys - Then fell to fight no more: - With the brave, mid the wave; - When the cannon's thunders roar, - Their spirits then shall trim the blast, - And swell the thunder's roar. - - Vain were the cheers of Britons, - Their hearts did vainly swell, - Where virtue, skill, and bravery - With gallant Morris fell. - That heart so well in battle tried, - Along the Moorish shore, - And again o'er the main, - When Columbia's thunders roar, - Shall prove its Yankee spirit true, - When Columbia's thunder's roar. - - Hence be our floating bulwark - Those oaks our mountains yield; - 'Tis mighty Heaven's plain decree-- - Then take the wat'ry field! - To ocean's farthest barrier then - Your whit'ning sail shall pour; - Safe they'll ride o'er the tide, - While Columbia's thunders roar, - While her cannon's fire is flashing fast, - And her Yankee thunders roar. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - - - - -YE PARLIAMENT OF ENGLAND. - - -[This rudely constructed song--evidently composed in the forecastle, -where poets are not exigent in the matter of rhymes, is included in -this collection, notwithstanding its imperfections, because of the hold -it took upon the minds of patriotic people. It was still a favorite -song in many parts of the country as late as 1859, and it is valuable -as a reflection of the spirit in which the War of 1812-14 was regarded -by those who fought it.--EDITOR.] - - Ye parliament of England, - You lords and commons, too, - Consider well what you're about, - And what you're going to do; - You're now to fight with Yankees, - I'm sure you'll rue the day, - You roused the sons of liberty, - In North America. - - You first confined our commerce, - And said our ships shant trade, - You next impressed our seamen, - And used them as your slaves; - You then insulted Rogers, - While ploughing o'er the main, - And had not we declarèd war, - You'd have done it o'er again. - - You thought our frigates were but few, - And Yankees could not fight, - Until brave Hull your _Guerrière_ took - And banished her from your sight. - The _Wasp_ then took your _Frolic_, - We'll nothing say to that, - The _Poictiers_ being of the line, - Of course she took her back. - - The next, your _Macedonian_, - No finer ship could swim, - Decatur took her gilt-work off, - And then he sent her in. - The _Java_, by a Yankee ship - Was sunk, you all must know; - The _Peacock_ fine, in all her plume, - By Lawrence down did go. - - Then next you sent your _Boxer_, - To box us all about, - But we had an _Enterprising_ brig - That beat your _Boxer_ out; - We boxed her up to Portland, - And moored her off the town, - To show the sons of liberty - The _Boxer_ of renown. - - The next upon Lake Erie, - Where Perry had some fun, - You own he beat your naval force, - And caused them for to run; - This was to you a sore defeat, - The like ne'er known before-- - Your British squadron beat complete-- - Some took, some run ashore. - - There's Rogers in the _President_, - Will burn, sink, and destroy; - The _Congress_, on the Brazil coast, - Your commerce will annoy; - The _Essex_, in the South Seas, - Will put out all your lights, - The flag she waves at her mast-head-- - "Free Trade and Sailor's Rights." - - Lament, ye sons of Britain, - Far distant is the day, - When you'll regain by British force - What you've lost in America; - Go tell your king and parliament, - By all the world 'tis known, - That British force, by sea and land, - By Yankees is o'erthrown. - - Use every endeavor, - And strive to make a peace, - For Yankee ships are building fast, - Their navy to increase; - They will enforce their commerce, - The laws by heaven are made, - That Yankee ships in time of peace, - To any port may trade. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -COMRADES! JOIN THE FLAG OF GLORY. - - - Comrades! join the flag of glory, - Cheerily tread the deck of fame, - Earn a place in future story, - Seek and win a warrior's name. - - Yankee tars can laugh at dangers, - While the roaring mountain wave - Teems with carnage--they are strangers - To a deed that is not brave. - - May our bannered stars as ever - Splendidly o'er freemen burn, - Till the night of war is over, - Till the dawn of peace return. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - - - - -OUR NAVY. - - - On wings of glory, swift as light, - The sound of battle came, - The gallant Hull in glorious fight - Has won the wreaths of fame. - - _Chorus._--Let brave Columbia's noble band - With hearts united rise, - Swear to protect their native land - Till sacred freedom dies. - - Let brave Decatur's dauntless breast - With patriot ardor glow, - And in the garb of vict'ry drest - Triumphant blast the foe. - _Chorus._--Let brave, etc. - - And Rogers with his gallant crew - O'er the wide ocean ride, - To prove their loyal spirits true, - And crush old Albion's pride. - _Chorus._--Let brave, etc. - - Then hail another Guerrière there, - With roaring broadsides hail; - And while the thunder rends the air - See Briton's sons turn pale. - _Chorus._--Let brave, etc. - - "The day is ours, my boys, huzza!" - The great commander cries, - While all responsive roar huzza! - With pleasure-sparkling eyes. - _Chorus._--Let brave, etc. - - Thus shall Columbia's fame be spread, - Her heaven-born eagle soar; - Her deeds of glory shall be read - When tyrants are no more. - _Chorus._--Let brave, etc. - - 1813. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. - -BY FRANCIS SCOTT KEY. - - -[Written during the bombardment of Fort McHenry, below Baltimore, by -the British fleet, 1814, the author being at the time forcibly detained -on board one of the British ships.--EDITOR.] - - O Say, can you see by the dawn's early light, - What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? - Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, - On the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming; - And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, - Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. - O say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? - -[Illustration] - - On the shore dimly seen, through the mists of the deep, - Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, - What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, - As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? - Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, - In full glory reflected now shines on the stream. - 'Tis the star-spangled banner! O long may it wave - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! - - And where is that band who so vauntingly swore - That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion - A home and a country shall leave us no more? - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. - No refuge could save the hireling and slave, - From the terror of death and the gloom of the grave. - And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! - - O thus be it ever when freemen shall stand - Between their loved homes and the war's desolation; - Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heaven-rescued land, - Praise the power that has made and preserved us a nation. - Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just. - And this be our motto: "In God is our trust." - And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -SEA AND LAND VICTORIES. - -(From "The Naval Songster," 1815.) - - - With half the Western world at stake, - See Perry on the midland lake, - The unequal combat dare; - Unawed by vastly stronger pow'rs, - He met the foe and made him ours, - And closed the savage war. - - Macdonough, too, on Lake Champlain, - In ships outnumbered, guns, and men, - Saw dangers thick increase; - His trust in God and virtue's cause - He conquer'd in the lion's jaws, - And led the way to peace. - - To sing each valiant hero's name - Whose deeds have swelled the files of fame, - Requires immortal powers; - Columbia's warriors never yield - To equal force by sea or field, - Her eagle never cowers. - - Long as Niagara's cataract roars - Or Erie laves our Northern shores, - Great Brown, thy fame shall rise; - Outnumber'd by a veteran host - Of conquering heroes, Britain's boast-- - Conquest was there thy prize. - - At Plattsburg, see the Spartan band, - Where gallant Macomb held command, - The unequal host oppose; - Provost confounded, vanquished flies, - Convinced that numbers won't suffice - Where Freemen are the foes. - - Our songs to noblest strains we'll raise - While we attempt thy matchless praise, - Carolina's godlike son; - While Mississippi rolls his flood, - Or Freemen's hearts move patriots' blood, - The palm shall be thine own. - - At Orleans--lo! a savage band, - In countless numbers gain the strand, - "Beauty and spoil" the word-- - There Jackson with his fearless few, - The invincibles by thousands slew, - And dire destruction poured. - - O Britain! when the tale is told - Of Jackson's deeds by fame enrolled, - Should grief and madness rise, - Remember God, the avenger, reigns, - Who witnessed Havre's smoking plains, - And Hampton's female cries. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -OLD IRONSIDES. - -BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. - - -[This poem was inspired by the announcement that the frigate -_Constitution_ was to be dismantled. Though written later it belongs -among the poems of the War of 1812, as the _Constitution's_ fame was -won in that war.--EDITOR.] - - Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! - Long has it waved on high, - And many an eye has dimmed to see - That banner in the sky; - Beneath it rung the battle shout, - And burst the cannon's roar;-- - The meteor of the ocean air - Shall sweep the clouds no more. - - Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, - Where knelt the vanquished foe, - When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, - And waves were white below, - No more shall feel the victor's tread, - Or know the conquered knee;-- - The harpies of the shore shall pluck - The eagle of the sea! - -[Illustration] - - O better that her shattered hulk - Should sink beneath the wave; - Her thunders shook the mighty deep, - And there should be her grave; - Nail to the mast her holy flag, - Set every threadbare sail, - And give her to the god of storms, - The lightning and the gale! - - 1836. - -[Illustration: - - - - -THE MEXICAN WAR] - -[Illustration] - - - - -MONTEREY. - -BY CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. - - - We were not many--we who stood - Before the iron sleet that day: - Yet many a gallant spirit would - Give half his years if but he could - Have with us been at Monterey. - - Now here, now there, the shot it hail'd - In deadly drifts of fiery spray, - Yet not a single soldier quail'd - When wounded comrades round them wail'd - Their dying shout at Monterey. - - And on--still on our column kept - Through walls of flame its withering way - Where fell the dead, the living stept, - Still charging on the guns which swept - The slippery streets of Monterey. - - The foe himself recoil'd aghast, - When, striking where he strongest lay, - We swoop'd his flanking batteries past, - And braving full their murderous blast, - Storm'd home the towers of Monterey. - - Our banners on those turrets wave, - And there our evening bugles play: - Where orange-boughs above their grave - Keep green the memory of the brave - Who fought and fell at Monterey. - - We are not many--we who press'd - Beside the brave who fell that day-- - But who of us has not confess'd - He'd rather share their warrior rest - Than not have been at Monterey? - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -BUENA VISTA. - - -[By some strange oversight, this fine ballad appears in none of the -popular collections. So far as the editor can discover, indeed, it -exists nowhere in print except in a volume privately printed by General -Pike some years ago, and to his courtesy the editor is indebted for the -copy from which the piece is here reproduced.--EDITOR.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - BUENA VISTA. - - BY ALBERT PIKE. - - From the Rio Grande's waters to the icy lakes of Maine, - Let all exult! for we have met the enemy again; - Beneath their stern old mountains we have met them in their pride, - And rolled from BUENA VISTA back the battle's bloody tide; - Where the enemy came surging swift, like the Mississippi's flood, - And the reaper, Death, with strong arms swung his sickle red with blood. - - SANTANA boasted loudly that, before two hours were past, - His Lancers through Saltillo should pursue us fierce and fast:-- - On comes his solid infantry, line marching after line; - Lo! their great standards in the sun like sheets of silver shine: - With thousands upon thousands,--yea, with more than three to one,-- - Their forests of bright bayonets fierce-flashing in the sun. - - Lo! Guanajuato's regiment; Morelos' boasted corps, - And Guadalajara's chosen troops!--all veterans tried before. - Lo! galloping upon the right four thousand lances gleam, - Where, floating in the morning-wind, their blood-red pennons stream; - And here his stern artillery climbs up the broad plateau: - To-day he means to strike at us an overwhelming blow. - - Now, WOOL, hold strongly to the heights! for, lo! the mighty tide - Comes, thundering like an avalanche, deep, terrible and wide. - Now, ILLINOIS, stand steady! Now, KENTUCKY, to their aid! - For a portion of our line, alas! is broken and dismayed: - Great bands of shameless fugitives are fleeing from the field, - And the day is lost, if Illinois and brave Kentucky yield. - - One of O'Brien's guns is gone!--On, on their masses drift, - Till their cavalry and infantry outflank us on the left; - Our light troops, driven from the hills, retreat in wild dismay, - And round us gather, thick and dark, the Mexican array. - SANTANA thinks the day is gained; for, now approaching near, - MIÑON'S dark cloud of Lancers sternly menaces our rear. - - Now, LINCOLN, gallant gentleman, lies dead upon the field, - Who strove to stay those cravens, when before the storm they reeled. - Fire, WASHINGTON, fire fast and true! Fire, SHERMAN, fast and far! - Lo! BRAGG comes thundering to the front, to breast the adverse war! - SANTANA thinks the day is gained! On, on his masses crowd, - And the roar of battle swells again more terrible and loud. - - NOT YET! Our brave old General comes to regain the day; - KENTUCKY, to the rescue! MISSISSIPPI, to the fray! - Again our line advances! Gallant DAVIS fronts the foe, - And back before his rifles, in red waves the Lancers flow. - Upon them yet once more, ye brave! The avalanche is stayed! - Back roll the Aztec multitudes, all broken and dismayed. - - Ride! MAY!--To Buena Vista! for the Lancers gain our rear, - And we have few troops there to check their vehement career. - Charge, ARKANSAS! KENTUCKY, charge! YELL, PORTER, VAUGHAN, are slain, - But the shattered troops cling desperately unto that crimsoned plain; - Till, with the Lancers intermixed, pursuing and pursued, - Westward, in combat hot and close, drifts off the multitude. - - And May comes charging from the hills with his ranks of flaming steel, - While shattered with a sudden fire, the foe already reel: - They flee amain!--Now to the left, to stay the torrent there, - Or else the day is surely lost, in horror and despair! - For their hosts pour swiftly onward, like a river in the spring, - Our flank is turned, and on our left their cannon thundering. - - Now, good Artillery! bold Dragoons! Steady, brave hearts, be calm! - Through rain, cold hail, and thunder, now nerve each gallant arm! - What though their shot fall round us here, yet thicker than the hail? - We'll stand against them, as the rock stands firm against the gale. - Lo! their battery is silenced! but our iron sleet still showers: - They falter, halt, retreat!--Hurrah! the glorious day is ours! - - In front, too, has the fight gone well, where upon gallant LANE, - And on stout Mississippi, the thick Lancers charged in vain: - Ah! brave Third Indiana! you have nobly wiped away - The reproach that through another corps befell your State to-day; - For back, all broken and dismayed, before your storm of fire, - SANTANA'S boasted chivalry, a shattered wreck, retire. - - Now charge again, SANTANA! or the day is surely lost-- - For back, like broken waves, along our left your hordes are tossed. - Still faster roar his batteries,--his whole reserve moves on; - More work remains for us to do, ere the good fight is won. - Now for your wives and children men! Stand steady yet once more! - Fight for your lives and honors! Fight as you never fought before! - - Ho! HARDIN breasts it bravely! and heroic BISSELL there - Stands firm before the storm of balls that fill the astonished air: - The Lancers dash upon them too! The foe swarm ten to one: - HARDIN is slain; MCKEE and CLAY the last time see the sun: - And many another gallant heart, in that last desperate fray, - Grew cold, its last thought turning to its loved ones far away. - - Speed, speed, Artillery! to the front!--for the hurricane of fire - Crushes those noble regiments, reluctant to retire! - Speed swiftly! Gallop! Ah! they come! Again BRAGG climbs the ridge, - And his grape sweeps down the swarming foe, as a strong man moweth sedge: - Thus baffled in their last attack, compelled perforce to yield, - Still menacing in firm array, their columns leave the field. - - The guns still roared at intervals; but silence fell at last, - And on the dead and dying came the evening shadows fast. - And then above the mountains rose the cold moon's silver shield, - And patiently and pitying she looked upon the field. - While careless of his wounded, and neglectful of his dead, - Despairingly and sullenly by night SANTANA fled. - - And thus on BUENA VISTA'S heights a long day's work was done, - And thus our brave old General another battle won. - Still, still our glorious banner waves, unstained by flight or shame, - And the Mexicans among their hills still tremble at our name. - SO, HONOR UNTO THOSE THAT STOOD! DISGRACE TO THOSE THAT FLED! - AND EVERLASTING GLORY UNTO BUENA VISTA'S DEAD! - - February 28, 1847. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD. - -BY THEODORE O'HARA. - - -[Originally written on the occasion of the erection of a monument to -the Kentucky volunteers who fell at Buena Vista.--EDITOR.] - - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat - The soldier's last tattoo; - No more on Life's parade shall meet - That brave and fallen few. - On Fame's eternal camping-ground - Their silent tents are spread, - And Glory guards, with solemn round, - The bivouac of the dead. - - No rumor of the foe's advance - Now swells upon the wind; - No troubled thought at midnight haunts - Of loved ones left behind; - No vision of the morrow's strife - The warrior's dream alarms; - No braying horn nor screaming fife - At dawn shall call to arms. - - Their shivered swords are red with rust; - Their plumèd heads are bowed; - Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, - Is now their martial shroud. - And plenteous funeral tears have washed - The red stains from each brow, - And the proud forms, by battle gashed, - Are free from anguish now. - - The neighing troop, the flashing blade, - The bugle's stirring blast, - The charge, the dreadful cannonade, - The din and shout are past; - Nor war's wild note, nor glory's peal, - Shall thrill with fierce delight - Those breasts that nevermore may feel - The rapture of the fight. - - Like the fierce northern hurricane - That sweeps his great plateau, - Flushed with the triumph yet to gain, - Came down the serried foe. - Who heard the thunder of the fray - Break o'er the field beneath, - Knew well the watchword of that day - Was "Victory or Death." - - Long had the doubtful conflict raged - O'er all that stricken plain, - For never fiercer fight had waged - The vengeful blood of Spain; - And still the storm of battle blew, - Still swelled the gory tide; - Not long our stout old chieftain knew, - Such odds his strength could bide. - - 'Twas in that hour his stern command - Called to a martyr's grave - The flower of his belovèd land, - The nation's flag to save. - By rivers of their fathers' gore - His first-born laurels grew - And well he deemed the sons would pour - There lives for glory too. - - Full many a norther's breath has swept, - O'er Angostura's plain-- - And long the pitying sky has wept - Above its mouldered slain. - The raven's scream or eagle's flight - Or shepherd's pensive lay, - Alone awakes each sullen height - That frowned o'er that dread fray. - - Sons of the Dark and Bloody ground, - Ye must not slumber there, - Where stranger steps and tongues resound - Along the heedless air. - Your own proud land's heroic soil - Shall be your fitter grave; - She claims from war his richest spoil-- - The ashes of her brave. - - Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, - Far from the gory field, - Borne to a Spartan mother's breast - On many a bloody shield; - The sunshine of their native sky - Smiles sadly on them here, - And kindred eyes and hearts watch by - The heroes' sepulchre. - - Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead! - Dear as the blood ye gave, - No impious footstep here shall tread - The herbage of your grave; - Nor shall your story be forgot, - While Fame her record keeps, - Or Honor points the hallowed spot - Where Valor proudly sleeps. - - Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone - In deathless song shall tell - When many a vanished age hath flown, - The story how ye fell; - Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, - Nor Time's remorseless doom, - Shall dim one ray of glory's light - That gilds your deathless tomb. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: - - - - -THE CIVIL WAR] - -[Illustration] - - - - -BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE. - -BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. - -(Written in December, 1860, when South Carolina adopted the Ordinance -of Secession.) - - - She has gone,--she has left us in passion and pride-- - Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side! - She has torn her own star from our firmament's glow, - And turned on her brother the face of a foe! - - O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, - We can never forget that our hearts have been one,-- - Our foreheads both sprinkled in Liberty's name, - From the fountain of blood with the finger of flame! - - You were always too ready to fire at a touch; - But we said: "She's a beauty--she does not mean much." - We have scowled when you uttered some turbulent threat; - But Friendship still whispered: "Forgive and forget." - - Has our love all died out? Have its altars grown cold? - Has the curse come at last which the fathers foretold? - Then Nature must teach us the strength of the chain - That her petulant children would sever in vain. - - They may fight till the buzzards are gorged with their spoil,-- - Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil, - Till the wolves and the catamounts troop from their caves, - And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the waves: - - In vain is the strife! When its fury is past, - Their fortunes must flow in one channel at last, - As the torrents that rush from the mountains of snow - Roll mingled in peace in the valleys below. - - Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky; - Man breaks not the medal when God cuts the die! - Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven with steel, - The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal! - - O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, - There are battles with fate that can never be won! - The star-flowering banner must never be furled, - For its blossoms of light are the hope of the world! - - Go, then, our rash sister, afar and aloof,-- - Run wild in the sunshine away from our roof; - But when your heart aches and your feet have grown sore, - Remember the pathway that leads to our door! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE TWELFTH OF APRIL. - -A.D., 1861. - -BY EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. - - -[Peculiar interest attaches to this piece as the first poem written -after the actual outbreak of the Civil War and inspired by its events. -The poem appeared in the evening edition of the New York _World_, on -April 16, 1861.--EDITOR.] - - Came the morning of that day, - When the God to whom we pray, - Gave the soul of Henry Clay - To the land; - How we loved him--living, dying! - But his birthday banners flying, - Saw us asking and replying, - Hand to hand. - - For we knew that far away, - Round the fort at Charleston bay, - Hung the dark impending fray, - Soon to fall; - And that Sumter's brave defender - Had the summons to surrender: - Seventy loyal hearts and tender-- - That was all. - -[Illustration] - - And we knew the April sun - Lit the length of many a gun-- - Hosts of batteries to the one - Island crag; - Guns and mortars grimly frowning, - Johnson, Moultrie, Pinckney, crowning, - And ten thousand men disowning - The old flag. - - O the fury of the fight - Even then was at its height! - Yet no breath from noon till night - Reached us here; - We had almost ceased to wonder, - And the day had faded under, - When--the echo of the thunder - Filled each ear! - - Then our hearts more fiercely beat, - As we crowded on the street, - Hot to gather and repeat - All the tale; - All the doubtful chances turning, - Till our souls with shame were burning, - As if all our bitter yearning - Could avail! - - Who had fired the earliest gun? - Was the fort by traitors won? - Was there succor? What was done, - Who could know? - And once more our thoughts would wander - To the gallant, lone commander, - On his battered ramparts grander - Than the foe. - - Not too long the brave shall wait: - On their own heads be their fate, - Who against the hallowed State - Dare begin; - Flag defied and compact riven! - In the record of high Heaven, - How shall southern men be shriven - For the sin! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -MEN OF THE NORTH AND WEST. - -BY RICHARD HENRY STODDARD. - - -[This poem was the second piece that appeared in print after the fall -of Fort Sumter. It was published in the _World_ on the day after the -appearance of Mr. Stedman's "The Twelfth of April."--EDITOR.] - - Men of the North and West, - Wake in your might. - Prepare, as the rebels have done, - For the fight! - You cannot shrink from the test; - Rise! Men of the North and West! - - They have torn down your banner of stars; - They have trampled the laws; - They have stifled the freedom they hate, - For no cause! - Do you love it or slavery best? - Speak! Men of the North and West! - - They strike at the life of the State: - Shall the murder be done? - They cry: "We are two!" And you? - "We are one!" - You must meet them, then, breast to breast; - On! Men of the North and West! - - Not with words; they laugh them to scorn, - And tears they despise; - But with swords in your hands, and death - In your eyes! - Strike home! leave to God all the rest; - Strike! Men of the North and West! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -RHODE ISLAND TO THE SOUTH. - -BY GENERAL F. W. LANDER. - - - Once, on New England's bloody heights, - And o'er a southern plain, - Our fathers fought for sovereign rights, - That working men might reign. - - And by that only Lord we serve, - The great Jehovah's name; - By those sweet lips that ever nerve - High hearts to deeds of fame; - - By all that makes the man a king, - The household hearth a throne,-- - Take back the idle scoff ye fling, - Where freedom claims its own. - - For though our battle hope was vague - Upon Manassas' plain, - Where Slocum stood with gallant Sprague - And gave his life in vain,-- - - Before we yield the holy trust - Our old forefathers gave, - Or wrong New England's hallowed dust, - Or grant the wrongs ye crave,-- - - We'll print in kindred gore so deep - The shore we love to tread, - That woman's eyes shall fail to weep - O'er man's unnumbered dead. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -OUR COUNTRY'S CALL. - -BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. - - - Lay down the axe, fling by the spade; - Leave in its track the toiling plough; - The rifle and the bayonet-blade - For arms like yours were fitter now; - And let the hands that ply the pen - Quit the light task, and learn to wield - The horseman's crooked brand, and rein - The charger on the battle-field. - - Our country calls; away! away! - To where the blood-stream blots the green; - Strike to defend the gentlest sway - That Time in all his course has seen. - See, from a thousand coverts--see - Spring the armed foes that haunt her track; - They rush to smite her down, and we - Must beat the banded traitors back. - - Ho! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave, - And moved as soon to fear and flight, - Men of the glade and forest! leave - Your woodcraft for the field of fight. - The arms that wield the axe must pour - An iron tempest on the foe; - His serried ranks shall reel before - The arm that lays the panther low. - - And ye who breast the mountain storm - By grassy steep or highland lake, - Come, for the land ye love, to form - A bulwark that no foe can break. - Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock - The whirlwind; stand in her defence: - The blast as soon shall move the rock, - As rushing squadrons bear ye thence. - - And ye whose homes are by her grand - Swift rivers, rising far away, - Come from the depth of her green land - As mighty in your march as they; - As terrible as when the rains - Have swelled them over bank and bourne, - With sudden floods to drown the plains - And sweep along the woods uptorn. - - And ye who throng beside the deep, - Her ports and hamlets of the strand, - In number like the waves that leap - On his long-murmuring marge of sand, - Come, like that deep, when, o'er his brim, - He rises, all his floods to pour, - And flings the proudest barks that swim, - A helpless wreck against his shore. - - Few, few were they whose swords of old - Won the fair land in which we dwell; - But we are many, we who hold - The grim resolve to guard it well. - Strike for that broad and goodly land, - Blow after blow, till men shall see - That Might and Right move hand in hand, - And Glorious must their triumph be. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -A CRY TO ARMS. - -BY HENRY TIMROD. - - - Ho, woodsmen of the mountain-side! - Ho, dwellers in the vales! - Ho, ye who by the chafing tide - Have roughened in the gales! - Leave barn and byre, leave kin and cot, - Lay by the bloodless spade; - Let desk and case and counter rot, - And burn your books of trade! - - The despot roves your fairest lands; - And till he flies or fears, - Your fields must grow but armèd bands, - Your sheaves be sheaves of spears! - Give up to mildew and to rust - The useless tools of gain, - And feed your country's sacred dust - With floods of crimson rain! - - Come with the weapons at your call-- - With musket, pike, or knife; - He wields the deadliest blade of all - Who lightest holds his life. - The arm that drives its unbought blows - With all a patriot's scorn, - Might brain a tyrant with a rose - Or stab him with a thorn. - - Does any falter? Let him turn - To some brave maiden's eyes, - And catch the holy fires that burn - In those sublunar skies. - Oh, could you like your women feel, - And in their spirit march, - A day might see your lines of steel - Beneath the victor's arch! - - What hope, O God! would not grow warm - When thoughts like these give cheer? - The lily calmly braves the storm, - And shall the palm-tree fear? - No! rather let its branches court - The rack that sweeps the plain; - And from the lily's regal port - Learn how to breast the strain. - - Ho, woodsmen of the mountain-side - Ho, dwellers in the vales! - Ho, ye who by the roaring tide - Have roughened in the gales! - Come, flocking gayly to the fight, - From forest, hill, and lake; - We battle for our country's right, - And for the lily's sake! - - [Southern.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BANNER OF THE STARS. - -BY R. W. RAYMOND. - - - Hurrah! boys, hurrah! fling our banner to the breeze! - Let the enemies of freedom see its folds again unfurled. - And down with the pirates that scorn upon the seas - Our victorious Yankee banner, sign of Freedom to the World! - - _Chorus._--We'll never have a new flag, for ours is the true flag, - The true flag, the true flag, the Red, White, and Blue flag, - Hurrah! boys, hurrah! we will carry to the wars, - The old flag, the free flag, the Banner of the Stars. - - And what tho' its white shall be crimsoned with our blood? - And what tho' its stripes shall be shredded in the storms? - To the torn flag, the worn flag, we'll keep our promise good, - And we'll bear the starry blue field, with gallant hearts and arms. - - --_Chorus._ - - Then, cursed be he who would strike our Starry Flag! - May the God of Hosts be with us, as we smite the traitor down! - And cursed be he who would hesitate or lag, - Till the dear flag, the fair flag, with Victory we crown. - - --_Chorus._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE FLAG OF THE CONSTELLATION. - -BY T. BUCHANAN REID. - - - The stars of our morn on our banner borne, - With the iris of heav'n are blended, - The hands of our sires first mingled those fires, - By us they shall be defended! - Then hail the true--the Red, White, and Blue, - The flag of the Constellation; - It sails as it sailed, by our fore-fathers hailed, - O'er battles that made us a nation. - - What hand so bold to strike from its fold, - One star or stripe of its bright'ning; - To him be each star a fiery Mars, - Each stripe a terrible lightning. - Then hail the true--the Red, White, and Blue, - The flag of the Constellation. - It sails as it sailed, by our fore-fathers hailed, - O'er battles that made us a nation. - - Its meteor form shall ride the storm - Till the fiercest of foes surrender; - The storm gone by, it shall gild the sky, - As a rainbow of peace and splendor. - Then hail the true--the Red, White, and Blue, - The flag of the Constellation, - It sails as it sailed, by our fore-fathers hailed, - O'er battles that made us a nation. - - Peace, peace to the world--is our motto unfurled, - Tho' we shun not a field that is gory; - At home or abroad, fearing none but our God, - We will carve our own pathway to glory! - Then hail the true--the Red, White, and Blue, - The flag of the Constellation, - It sails as it sailed, by our fore-fathers hailed, - O'er battles that made us a nation, - - Florence, Italy, May, 1861. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE STARS AND STRIPES. - -BY JAMES T. FIELDS. - - - Rally round the flag, boys-- - Give it to the breeze! - That's the banner we bore - On the land and seas. - - Brave hearts are under it, - Let the _traitors_ brag, - Gallant lads, fire away! - And fight for the flag. - - Their flag is but a rag-- - Ours is the true one; - Up with the Stars and Stripes! - Down with the new one! - - Let our colors fly, boys-- - Guard them day and night; - For victory is liberty, - And God will bless the right. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG. - -BY ANNIE CHAMBERS KETCHUM. - - - Come, brothers! rally for the right! - The bravest of the brave - Sends forth her ringing battle-cry - Beside the Atlantic wave! - She leads the way in honor's path; - Come brothers, near and far, - Come rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag - That bears a single star! - - We've borne the Yankee trickery, - The Yankee gibe and sneer, - Till Yankee insolence and pride - Know neither shame nor fear; - But ready now with shot and steel - Their brazen front to mar, - We hoist aloft the Bonnie Blue Flag - That bears a single star. - - Now Georgia marches to the front, - And close beside her come - Her sisters by the Mexique Sea, - With pealing trump and drum; - Till answering back from hill and glen - The rallying cry afar, - A Nation hoists the Bonnie Blue Flag - That bears a single star! - - By every stone in Charleston Bay, - By each beleaguered town, - We swear to rest not, night nor day, - But hunt the tyrants down! - Till bathed in valor's holy blood - The gazing world afar - Shall greet with shouts the Bonnie Blue Flag - That bears the cross and star! - - [Southern.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE STRIPES AND THE STARS. - -BY EDNA DEAN PROCTOR. - - O STAR-SPANGLED BANNER! the flag of our pride! - Though trampled by traitors and basely defied, - Fling out to the glad winds your red, white, and blue, - For the heart of the Northland is beating for you! - And her strong arm is nerving to strike with a wall, - Till the foe and his boastings are humbled and still! - Here's welcome to wounding and combat and scars - And the glory of death--for the Stripes and the Stars! - - From prairie, O ploughman! speed boldly away-- - There's seed to be sown in God's furrows to-day! - Row landward, lone fisher! stout woodman come home! - Let smith leave his anvil and weaver his loom, - And hamlet and city ring loud with the cry: - "For God and our country we'll fight till we die! - Here's welcome to wounding and combat and scars - And the glory of death--for the Stripes and the Stars!" - - Invincible banner! the flag of the free, - Oh, where treads the foot that would falter for thee? - Or the hands to be folded, till triumph is won - And the eagle looks proud, as of old, to the sun? - Give tears for the parting--a murmur of prayer-- - Then forward! the fame of our standard to share! - With welcome to wounding and combat and scars - And the glory of death--for the Stripes and the Stars! - - O God of our fathers! this banner must shine - Where battle is hottest, in warfare divine! - The cannon has thundered, the bugle has blown-- - We fear not the summons-we fight not alone! - O lead us, till wide from the gulf to the sea - The land shall be sacred to freedom and Thee! - With love for oppression; with blessing, for scars-- - One country--one banner--the Stripes and the Stars! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -DIXIE. - -BY ALBERT PIKE. - - - Southrons, hear your country call you! - Up, lest worse than death befall you! - To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! - Lo! all the beacon-fires are lighted-- - Let all hearts be now united! - To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - Hurrah! hurrah! - For Dixie's land we take our stand, - And live or die for Dixie! - To arms! To arms! - And conquer peace for Dixie! - To arms! To arms! - And conquer peace for Dixie! - - Hear the Northern thunders mutter! - Northern flags in South winds flutter! - To arms! - Send them back your fierce defiance! - Stamp upon the accursed alliance! - To arms! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - - Fear no danger! shun no labor! - Lift up rifle, pike, and sabre! - To arms! - Shoulder pressing close to shoulder, - Let the odds make each heart bolder! - To arms! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - - How the South's great heart rejoices - At your cannon's ringing voices! - To arms! - For faith betrayed, and pledges broken, - Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken, - To arms! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - - Strong as lions, swift as eagles, - Back to their kennels hunt these beagles! - To arms! - Cut the unequal bond asunder! - Let them hence each other plunder! - To arms! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - - Swear upon your country's altar - Never to submit or falter! - To arms! - Till the spoilers are defeated, - Till the Lord's work is completed, - To arms! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - - Halt not till our Federation - Secures among earth's powers its station - To arms! - Then at peace, and crowned with glory, - Hear your children tell the story! - To arms! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - - If the loved ones weep in sadness, - Victory soon shall bring them gladness. - To arms! - Exultant pride soon vanish sorrow; - Smiles chase tears away to-morrow. - To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! - Advance the flag of Dixie! - Hurrah! hurrah! - For Dixie's land we take our stand, - And live or die for Dixie! - To arms! To arms! - And conquer peace for Dixie! - To arms! To arms! - And conquer peace for Dixie! - - [Southern.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE OATH OF FREEDOM. - -BY JAMES BARRON HOPE. - - - Born free, thus we resolve to live: - By Heaven, we will be free! - By all the stars which burn on high-- - By the green earth--the mighty sea-- - By God's unshaken majesty, - We will be free or die! - Then let the drums all roll! - Let all the trumpets blow! - Mind, heart, and soul, - We spurn control - Attempted by a foe! - - Born free, thus we resolve to live: - By Heaven, we will be free! - And, vainly now the Northmen try - To beat us down--in arms we stand - To strike for this our native land! - We will be free or die! - Then let the drums all roll! - - Born free, we thus resolve to live: - By Heaven, we will be free! - Our wives and children look on high, - Pray God to smile upon the right! - And bid us in the deadly fight - As freemen live or die! - Then let the drums all roll! - - Born free, thus we resolve to live: - By Heaven, we will be free! - And ere we cease this battle-cry, - Be all our blood, our kindred's spilt, - On bayonet or sabre hilt! - We will be free or die! - Then let the drums all roll! - - Born free, thus we resolve to live: - By Heaven, we will be free! - Defiant let the banners fly, - Shake out their glories to the air, - And kneeling, brothers, let us swear - We will be free or die! - Then let the drums all roll! - - Born free, thus we resolve to live: - By Heaven, we will be free! - And to this oath the dead reply-- - Our valiant fathers' sacred ghosts-- - These with us, and the God of hosts, - We will be free or die! - Then let the drums all roll! - - [Southern.] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: - - - - -CIVIL WAR] - -BY CHARGES DAWSON SHANLY. - - -[In many collections this poem is entitled "The Fancy Shot." It was -first published in London, in the paper called _Once-a-Week_, and -was there entitled "Civile Bellum." It is believed to be the work of -Charles Dawson Shanly, who died in 1876.--EDITOR.] - - "Rifleman, shoot me a fancy shot - Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette; - Ring me a ball in the glittering spot - That shines on his breast like an amulet!" - - "Ah, captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead, - There's music around when my barrel's in tune!" - Crack! went the rifle, the messenger sped, - And dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon. - - "Now, rifleman, steal through the bushes, and snatch - From your victim some trinket to handsel first blood; - A button, a loop, or that luminous patch - That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud!" - - "O captain! I staggered and sunk on my track, - When I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette, - For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back, - That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet. - - "But I snatched off the trinket,--this locket of gold; - An inch from the centre my lead broke its way, - Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold, - Of a beautiful lady in bridal array." - - "Ha! rifleman, fling me the locket!--'tis she, - My brother's young bride,--and the fallen dragoon - Was her husband--Hush! soldier, 'twas Heaven's decree, - We must bury him there, by the light of the moon! - - "But hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; - War is a virtue, weakness a sin; - There's a lurking and loping around us to-night;-- - Load again, rifleman, keep your hand in!" - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE MASSACHUSETTS LINE. - -BY ROBERT LOWELL. - - - Still first, as long and long ago, - Let Massachusetts muster; - Give her the post right next the foe; - Be sure that you may trust her. - She was the first to give her blood - For freedom and for honor; - She trod her soil to crimson mud; - God's blessing be upon her! - - She never faltered for the right, - Nor ever will hereafter; - Fling up her name with all your might, - Shake roof-tree and shake rafter! - But of old deeds she need not brag, - How she broke sword and fetter; - Fling out again the old striped flag! - She'll do yet more and better. - - In peace her sails fleck all the seas, - Her mills shake every river; - And where are scenes so fair as these - God and her true hands give her? - Her claim in war who seek to rob? - All others come in later;-- - Hers first it is to front the mob, - The tyrant, and the traitor. - - God bless, God bless this glorious State! - Let her have her way in battle! - She'll go where batteries crash with fate - Or where thick rifles rattle. - Give her the Light and let her try, - And then who can may press her; - She'll go straight on or she will die; - God bless her, and God bless her! - - May 7, 1861. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -BETHEL. - -BY A. J. H. DUGANNE. - - -[Theodore Winthrop, a brilliant young man of letters, was killed at Big -Bethel, on June 10, 1861.--EDITOR.] - - We mustered at midnight, in darkness we formed, - And the whisper went round of a fort to be stormed; - But no drum-beat had called us, no trumpet we heard, - And no voice of command, but our colonel's low word-- - "Column! Forward!" - - And out, through the mist, and the murk of the morn, - From the beaches of Hampton our barges were borne; - And we heard not a sound, save the sweep of the oar, - Till the word of our colonel came up from the shore-- - "Column! Forward!" - - With hearts bounding bravely, and eyes all alight, - As ye dance to soft music, so trod we that night; - Through the aisles of the greenwood, with vines over-arched, - Tossing dew-drops, like gems, from our feet, as we marched-- - "Column! Forward!" - - As ye dance with the damsels, to viol and flute, - So we skipped from the shadows, and mocked their pursuit; - But the soft zephyrs chased us, with scents of the morn, - As we passed by the hay-fields and green waving corn-- - "Column! Forward!" - - For the leaves were all laden with fragrance of June, - And the flowers and the foliage with sweets were in tune; - And the air was so calm, and the forest so dumb, - That we heard our own heart-beats, like taps of a drum-- - "Column! Forward!" - - Till the lull of the lowlands was stirred by the breeze, - And the buskins of morn brushed the tops of the trees, - And the glintings of glory that slid from her track - By the sheen of our rifles were gayly flung back-- - "Column! Forward!" - - And the woodlands grew purple with sunshiny mist, - And the blue-crested hill-tops with rose-light were kissed, - And the earth gave her prayers to the sun in perfumes, - Till we marched as through gardens, and trampled on blooms-- - "Column! Forward!" - - Ay, trampled on blossoms, and seared the sweet breath - Of the greenwood with low-brooding vapors of death; - O'er the flowers and the corn we were borne like a blast, - And away to the forefront of battle we passed-- - "Column! Forward!" - - For the cannon's hoarse thunder roared out from the glades, - And the sun was like lightning on banners and blades, - When the long line of chanting Zouaves, like a flood, - From the green of the woodlands rolled, crimson as blood-- - "Column! Forward!" - - While the sound of their song, like the surge of the seas, - With the "Star-Spangled Banner" swelled over the leas; - And the sword of Duryea, like a torch, led the way, - Bearing down on the batteries of Bethel that day-- - "Column! Forward!" - - Through green-tasselled cornfields our columns were thrown, - And like corn by the red scythe of fire we were mown; - While the cannon's fierce ploughings new-furrowed the plain, - That our blood might be planted for Liberty's grain-- - "Column! Forward!" - - Oh! the fields of fair June have no lack of sweet flowers, - But their rarest and best breathe no fragrance like ours; - And the sunshine of June, sprinkling gold on the corn, - Hath no harvest that ripeneth like Bethel's red morn-- - "Column! Forward!" - - When our heroes, like bridegrooms, with lips and with breath, - Drank the first kiss of Danger and clasped her in death; - And the heart of brave Winthrop grew mute with his lyre, - When the plumes of his genius lay moulting in fire-- - "Column! Forward!" - - Where he fell shall be sunshine as bright as his name, - And the grass where he slept shall be green as his fame; - For the gold of the pen and the steel of the sword - Write his deeds--in his blood--on the land he adored-- - "Column! Forward!" - - And the soul of our comrade shall sweeten the air, - And the flowers and the grass-blades his memory upbear; - While the breath of his genius, like music in leaves, - With the corn-tassels whispers, and sings in the sheaves-- - "Column! Forward!" - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE CHARGE BY THE FORD. - -BY DR. THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. - - - Eighty and nine with their captain - Rode on the enemy's track, - Rode in the gray of the morning: - Nine of the ninety came back. - - Slow rose the mist from the river, - Lighter each moment the way: - Careless and tearless and fearless - Galloped they on to the fray. - - Singing in tune, how the scabbards - Loud on the stirrup-irons rang, - Clinked as the men rose in saddle, - Fell as they sank with a clang. - - What is it moves by the river, - Jaded and weary and weak, - Gray-backs--a cross on their banner-- - Yonder the foe whom they seek. - - Silence! They see not, they hear not, - Tarrying there by the marge: - _Forward! Draw sabre! Trot! Gallop!_ - _Charge!_ like a hurricane, _charge_! - - Ah! 'twas a man-trap infernal-- - Fire like the deep pit of hell! - Volley on volley to meet them, - Mixed with the gray rebels' yell. - - Ninety had ridden to battle, - Tracing the enemy's track,-- - Ninety had ridden to battle, - Nine of the ninety came back. - - Honor the name of the ninety; - Honor the heroes who came - Scathless from five hundred muskets, - Safe from the lead-bearing flame. - - Eighty and one of the troopers - Lie on the field of the slain-- - Lie on the red field of honor: - Honor the nine who remain! - - Cold are the dead there, and gory, - There where their life-blood was spilt; - Back come the living, each sabre - Red from the point to the hilt. - - Give them three cheers and a tiger! - Let the flags wave as they come! - Give them the blare of the trumpet - Give them the roll of the drum! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -MANASSAS. - -July 21, 1861. - -BY CATHERINE M. WARFIELD. - - They have met at last--as storm-clouds - Meet in heaven, - And the Northmen back and bleeding - Have been driven: - And their thunders have been stilled, - And their leaders crushed or killed, - And their ranks with terror thrilled, - Rent and riven! - - Like the leaves of Vallambrosa - They are lying; - In the moonlight, in the midnight, - Dead and dying: - Like those leaves before the gale, - Swept their legions, wild and pale; - While the host that made them quail - Stood, defying. - - When aloft in morning sunlight - Flags were flaunted, - And "swift vengeance on the rebel" - Proudly vaunted: - Little did they think that night - Should close upon their shameful flight, - And rebels, victors in the fight, - Stand undaunted. - - But peace to those who perished - In our passes! - Light be the earth above them; - Green the grasses! - Long shall Northmen rue the day - When they met our stern array, - And shrunk from battle's wild affray - At Manassas. - - (Southern.) - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -UPON THE HILL BEFORE CENTREVILLE. - -July 21, 1861. - -BY GEORGE H. BOKER. - - - I'll tell you what I heard that day: - I heard the great guns, far away, - Boom after boom. Their sullen sound - Shook all the shuddering air around; - And shook, ah me! my shrinking ear, - And downward shook the hanging tear - That, in despite of manhood's pride, - Rolled o'er my face a scalding tide. - And then I prayed. O God! I prayed, - As never stricken saint, who laid - His hot cheek to the holy tomb - Of Jesus, in the midnight gloom. - - "What saw I?" Little. Clouds of dust; - Great squares of men, with standards thrust - Against their course; dense columns crowned - With billowing steel. Then bound on bound, - The long black lines of cannon poured - Behind the horses, streaked and gored - With sweaty speed. Anon shot by, - Like a lone meteor of the sky, - A single horseman; and he shone - His bright face on me, and was gone. - All these with rolling drums, with cheers, - With songs familiar to my ears, - Passed under the far-hanging cloud, - And vanished, and my heart was proud! - - For mile on mile the line of war - Extended; and a steady roar, - As of some distant stormy sea, - On the south-wind came up to me. - And high in air, and over all, - Grew, like a fog, that murky pall, - Beneath whose gloom of dusty smoke - The cannon flamed, the bombshell broke. - And the sharp rattling volley rang, - And shrapnel roared, and bullets sang, - And fierce-eyed men, with panting breath, - Toiled onward at the work of death. - I could not see, but knew too well, - That underneath that cloud of hell, - Which still grew more by great degrees, - Man strove with man in deeds like these. - - But when the sun had passed his stand - At noon, behold! on every hand - The dark brown vapor backward bore, - And fainter came the dreadful roar - From the huge sea of striving men. - Thus spoke my rising spirit then: - "Take comfort from that dying sound, - Faint heart, the foe is giving ground!" - And one, who taxed his horse's powers, - Flung at me, "Ho! the day is ours!" - And scoured along. So swift his pace, - I took no memory of his face. - Then turned I once again to Heaven; - All things appeared so just and even; - So clearly from the highest Cause - Traced I the downward-working laws-- - Those moral springs, made evident, - In the grand, triumph-crowned event. - So half I shouted, and half sang, - Like Jephtha's daughter, to the clang - Of my spread, cymbal-striking palms, - Some fragments of thanksgiving psalms. - - Meanwhile a solemn stillness fell - Upon the land. O'er hill and dell - Failed every sound. My heart stood still, - Waiting before some coming ill. - The silence was more sad and dread, - Under that canopy of lead, - Than the wild tumult of the war - That raged a little while before. - All nature, in her work of death, - Paused for one last, despairing breath; - And, cowering to the earth, I drew - From her strong breast my strength anew. - - When I arose, I wondering saw - Another dusty vapor draw, - From the far right, its sluggish way - Toward the main cloud, that frowning lay - Against the western sloping sun: - And all the war was re-begun, - Ere this fresh marvel of my sense - Caught from my mind significance. - And then--why ask me? O my God! - Would I had lain beneath the sod, - A patient clod, for many a day, - And from my bones and mouldering clay - The rank field grass and flowers had sprung, - Ere the base sight, that struck and stung - My very soul, confronted me, - Shamed at my own humanity. - O happy dead! who early fell, - Ye have no wretched tale to tell - Of causeless fear and coward flight, - Of victory snatched beneath your sight, - Of martial strength and honor lost, - Of mere life bought at any cost, - Of the deep, lingering mark of shame, - For ever scorched on brow and name, - That no new deeds, however bright, - Shall banish from men's loathful sight! - - Ye perished in your conscious pride, - Ere this vile scandal opened wide - A wound that cannot close nor heal. - Ye perished steel to levelled steel, - Stern votaries of the god of war, - Filled with his godhead to the core! - Ye died to live, these lived to die, - Beneath the scorn of every eye! - How eloquent your voices sound - From the low chambers under ground! - How clear each separate title burns - From your high-set and laurelled urns! - While these, who walk about the earth, - Are blushing at their very birth! - And, though they talk, and go, and come, - Their moving lips are worse than dumb. - Ye sleep beneath the valley's dew, - And all the nation mourns for you; - So sleep till God shall wake the lands! - For angels, armed with fiery brands, - Await to take you by the hands. - - The right-hand vapor broader grew; - It rose, and joined itself unto - The main cloud with a sudden dash. - Loud and more near the cannon's crash - Came toward me, and I heard a sound - As if all hell had broken bound-- - A cry of agony and fear. - Still the dark vapor rolled more near, - Till at my very feet it tossed, - The vanward fragments of our host. - Can man, Thy image, sink so low, - Thou, who hast bent Thy tinted bow - Across the storm and raging main; - Whose laws both loosen and restrain - The powers of earth, without whose will - No sparrow's little life is still? - Was fear of hell, or want of faith, - Or the brute's common dread of death - The passion that began a chase, - Whose goal was ruin and disgrace? - What tongue the fearful sight may tell? - What horrid nightmare ever fell - Upon the restless sleep of crime-- - What history of another time-- - What dismal vision, darkly seen - By the stern-featured Florentine, - Can give a hint to dimly draw - The likeness of the scene I saw? - I saw, yet saw not. In that sea, - That chaos of humanity, - No more the eye could catch and keep - A single point, than on the deep - The eye may mark a single wave, - Where hurrying myriads leap and rave. - Men of all arms, and all costumes, - Bare-headed, decked with broken plumes; - Soldiers and officers, and those - Who wore but civil-suited clothes; - On foot or mounted--some bestrode - Steeds severed from their harnessed load; - Wild mobs of white-topped wagons, cars, - Of wounded, red with bleeding scars; - The whole grim panoply of war - Surged on me with a deafening roar! - All shades of fear, disfiguring man, - Glared through their faces' brazen tan. - Not one a moment paused, or stood - To see what enemy pursued. - With shrieks of fear, and yells of pain, - With every muscle on the strain, - Onward the struggling masses bore. - Oh! had the foemen lain before, - They'd trampled them to dust and gore, - And swept their lines and batteries - As autumn sweeps the windy trees! - Here one cast forth his wounded friend, - And with his sword or musket-end - Urged on the horses; there one trod - Upon the likeness of his God, - As if 'twere dust; a coward here - Grew valiant with his very fear, - And struck his weaker comrade prone, - And struggled to the front alone. - All had one purpose, one sole aim, - That mocked the decency of shame,-- - To fly, by any means to fly; - They cared not how, they asked not why. - I found a voice. My burning blood - Flamed up. Upon a mound I stood; - I could no more restrain my voice - Than could the prophet of God's choice. - "Back, animated dirt!" I cried, - "Back, on your wretched lives, and hide - Your shame beneath your native clay! - Or if the foe affrights you, slay - Your own base selves; and, dying, leave - Your children's tearful cheeks to grieve, - Not quail and blush, when you shall come, - Alive, to their degraded home! - Your wives will look askance with scorn; - Your boys, and infants yet unborn, - Will curse you to God's holy face! - Heaven holds no pardon in its grace - For cowards. Oh! are such as ye - The guardians of our liberty? - Back, if one trace of manhood still - May nerve your arm and brace your will! - You stain your country in the eyes - Of Europe and her monarchies! - The despots laugh, the peoples groan; - Man's cause is lost and overthrown! - I curse you, by the sacred blood - That freely poured its purple flood - Down Bunker's heights, on Monmouth's plain, - From Georgia to the rocks of Maine! - I curse you, by the patriot band - Whose bones are crumbling in the land! - By those who saved what these had won-- - In the high name of Washington!" - Then I remember little more. - As the tide's rising waves, that pour - Over some low and rounded rock, - The coming mass, with one great shock, - Flowed o'er the shelter of my mound, - And raised me helpless from the ground. - As the huge shouldering billows bear, - Half in the sea and half in air, - A swimmer on their foaming crest, - So the foul throng beneath me pressed, - Swept me along, with curse and blow, - And flung me-where, I ne'er shall know. - - When I awoke, a steady rain - Made rivulets across the plain; - And it was dark--oh, very dark. - I was so stunned as scarce to mark - The ghostly figures of the trees, - Or hear the sobbing of the breeze - That flung the wet leaves to and fro. - Upon me lay a dismal woe, - A boundless, superhuman grief, - That drew no promise of relief - From any hope. Then I arose, - As one who struggles up from blows - By unseen hands; and as I stood - Alone, I thought that God was good, - To hide, in clouds and driving rain, - Our low world from the angel train, - Whose souls filled heroes when the earth - Was worthy of their noble birth. - By that dull instinct of the mind, - Which leads aright the helpless blind, - I struggled onward, till the dawn - Across the eastern clouds had drawn - A narrow line of watery gray; - And full before my vision lay - The great dome's gaunt and naked bones - Beneath whose crown the nation thrones - Her queenly person. On I stole, - With hanging head and abject soul, - Across the high embattled ridge, - And o'er the arches of the bridge. - So freshly pricked my sharp disgrace, - I feared to meet the human face, - Skulking, as any woman might, - Who'd lost her virtue in the night, - And sees the dreadful glare of day - Prepare to light her homeward way, - Alone, heart-broken, shamed, undone, - I staggered into Washington! - Since then long sluggish days have passed, - And on the wings of every blast - Have come the distant nations' sneers - To tingle in our blushing ears. - In woe and ashes, as was meet, - We wore the penitential sheet. - But now I breathe a purer air, - And from the depths of my despair - Awaken to a cheering morn, - Just breaking through the night forlorn, - A morn of hopeful victory. - Awake, my countrymen, with me! - Redeem the honor which you lost. - With any blood, at any cost! - I ask not how the war began, - Nor how the quarrel branched and ran - To this dread height. The wrong or right - Stands clear before God's faultless sight. - I only feel the shameful blow, - I only see the scornful foe, - And vengeance burns in every vein - To die, or wipe away the stain. - The war-wise hero of the west, - Wearing his glories as a crest, - Of trophies gathered in your sight, - Is arming for the coming fight. - Full well his wisdom apprehends - The duty and its mighty ends; - The great occasion of the hour, - That never lay in human power - Since over Yorktown's tented plain - The red cross fell, nor rose again. - My humble pledge of faith I lay, - Dear comrade of my school-boy day, - Before thee, in the nation's view, - And if thy prophet prove untrue, - And from our country's grasp be thrown - The sceptre and the starry crown, - And thou, and all thy marshalled host - Be baffled and in ruin lost; - Oh! let me not outlive the blow - That seals my country's overthrow! - And, lest this woful end come true, - Men of the North, I turn to you. - Display your vaunted flag once more, - Southward your eager columns pour! - Sound trump, and fife, and rallying drum; - From every hill and valley come. - Old men, yield up your treasured gold! - Can liberty be priced and sold? - Fair matrons, maids, and tender brides - Gird weapons to your lovers' sides; - And though your hearts break at the deed, - Give them your blessing and God-speed; - Then point them to the field of flame, - With words like those of Sparta's dame; - And when the ranks are full and strong, - And the whole army moves along, - A vast result of care and skill, - Obedient to the master will; - And your young hero draws the sword, - And gives the last commanding word - That hurls your strength upon the foe-- - Oh! let them need no second blow. - Strike, as your fathers struck of old; - Through summer's heat, and winter's cold; - Through pain, disaster, and defeat; - Through marches tracked with bloody feet; - Through every ill that could befall - The holy cause that bound them all! - Strike as they struck for liberty! - Strike as they struck to make you free! - Strike for the crown of victory! - - END OF VOL. I. - -[Illustration] - - - - -Knickerbocker Nuggets. - - NUGGET--"A diminutive mass of precious metal." - - -"Little gems of bookmaking."--_Commercial Gazette_, Cincinnati. - -"For many a long day nothing has been thought out or worked out so sure -to prove entirely pleasing to cultured book-lovers."--_The Bookmaker._ - - =I--Gesta Romanorum.= Tales of the old - monks. Edited by C. 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Reprinted from the revised edition - of 1841, with 60 illustrations by ALLAN, ROBERTS, - SIMSON, WARREN, AUBREY, and HARVEY $1 50 - -"A mass of popular poetry which has never yet received the attention to -which it is entitled."--_Boston Journal of Education._ - -"The historical and artistic settings of these mediæval poetic gems -enhance the value and attractiveness of the book."--_Buffalo Chronicle -Advocate._ - - - =XVIII--The Wit and Wisdom of Sydney= - =Smith.= A selection of the most memorable passages - in his Writings and Conversations. $1 00 - - - =XIX--The Ideals of the Republic; or,= - =Great Words from Great Americans.= Comprising:--The - "Declaration of Independence, - 1776." "The Constitution of the United States, - 1779." "Washington's Circular Letter, 1783." - "Washington's First Inaugural, 1789." "Washington's - Second Inaugural, 1793." "Washington's - Farewell Address." "Lincoln's First Inaugural, - 1861." "Lincoln's Second Inaugural, 1865." "Lincoln's - Gettysburg Address, 1863." $1 00 - - - =XX--Selections from Thomas De Quincey.= - Comprising:--"On Murder Considered as One of - the Fine Arts." "Three Memorable Murders." - "The Spanish Nun." $1 00 - - - =XXI--Tales by Heinrich Zschökke.= Comprising:--"A - New Year's Eve," "The Broken - Pitcher," "Jonathan Frock," "A Walpurgis Night." - Translated by PARKE GODWIN and WILLIAM P. - PRENTICE. - -_In Preparation._ - - =American War Ballads.= A selection of the - more noteworthy of the Ballads and Lyrics which - were produced during the Revolution, the War of - 1812, and the Civil War. Edited, with notes, by - GEO. CARY EGGLESTON. With original illustrations. - - =French Ballads.= Printed in the original text, - selected and edited, with notes, by Prof. T. F. CRANE. - - =German Ballads.= Printed in the original text. - - G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, PUBLISHERS - New York and London - - - - - TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES - - - Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical - errors. - - Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - - Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - - Enclosed bold font in =equals=. - - Enclosed distinctive font in ~tildes~. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American War Ballads and Lyrics, -Volume I (of 2), by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN WAR BALLADS, VOL I *** - -***** This file should be named 50335-8.txt or 50335-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/3/3/50335/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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