BATTLE OF TRENTON
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.
The pickets stormed, the alarm was spread,
The 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.
ANONYMOUS
EMILY GEIGER
'Twas in the days of the Revolution,-
Dark days were they and drear,-
And by Carolina firesides
The women sat in fear;
For the men were away at the fighting,
And sad was the news that came,
That the battle was lost; and the death-list
Held many a loved one's name.
When as heart-sore they sat round the camp-fires,
"What, ho! Who'll volunteer
To carry a message to Sumter?"
A voice rang loud and clear.
There was a sudden silence,
But not a man replied;
they knew too well of the peril
Of one who dared that ride.
Outspoke then Emily Geiger
With a rich flush on her cheek,-
"Give me the message to be sent;
I am the one you seek.
For I am a Southern woman;
And I'd rather do and dare
Than sit by a lonely fireside,
My heart gnawed through with care."
They gave her the precious missive:
And on her own good steed
She rode away, "mid the cheers of the men,
Upon her daring deed.
And away through the lonely forests,
Steadily galloping on,
She saw the sun sink low in the sky,
And in the west go down.
"Halt!-or I fire!" On a sudden
A rifle clicked close by.
"let you pass? Not we, till we know
you are"
No messenger or spy."
"She's a Whig,-from her face,-I will wager,"
Swore the officer of the day.
"to the guard-house, and send for a woman
To search her without delay."
No time did she lose in bewailing;
As the bolt creaked in the lock,
She quickly drew the precious note
That was hidden in her frock.
And she read it through with hurried care,
then ate it piece by piece,
And calmly sat her down to wait
Till time should bring release.
They brought her out in a little,
And set her on her steed,
With many a rude apology,
For his discourteous deed.
on, on, once more through the forest black,
The good horse panting strains,
Till the sentry's challenge: "Who comes there?"
Tells that the end she gains.
Ere an hour, in the camp of Sumter
There was hurrying to and fro.
"Saddle and mount, saddle and mount,"
The bugles shrilly blow.
"Forward trot!" and the long ranks wheel,
And into the darkness glide:
Long shall the British rue that march
And Emily Geiger's ride.
ANONYMOUS
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.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT
WILLIAM
CULLEN BRYANT
WILLIAM
CULLEN BRYANT (1794-1878)
