ORISKANY.

The battle at Oriskany is one of the many instances during the Revolutionary contest where disaster resulted through the rashness and insubordination of inferior officers. A lack of discipline continually placed the cause in peril, and success was frequently won at a cost which might have been avoided. The enemy, under the command of Johnson and Brant, were, fortunately for their antagonists, troubled with the same fault. Had it been otherwise, the Americans would have been exterminated.PETER GANSEVOORT.The enemy had laid siege to Fort Schuyler, where Gansevoort lay with a small garrison. General Herkimer, though without much pretensions to military science, was a brave and prudent officer, and perfectly fitted for the occasion. He had called out the militia of Tryon County to the number of eight hundred. His plan was to make an attack upon the enemy simultaneously with a sortie from the fort, and he sent a messenger to effect that arrangement with Gansevoort. The signal for Herkimer’s advance was to be a single gun from Fort Schuyler. It was some time before the scout could make his way safely through the investing force. In the mean while some of the men grew impatient, and clamored for an immediate advance. Colonels Cox and Paris headed thisparty, and when Herkimer refused they denounced him as a coward. At length he submitted to a precipitous movement, at the same time saying that these very bold gentlemen would be the first to run. And so it proved.GENERAL HERKIMER’S RESIDENCE.The incidents of the fight are so minutely given in the ballad that no further explanation is needed. The Americans remained masters of the field, but at a fearful loss, of which that of Herkimer was not the least. Had the original plan been followed, much of the slaughter would have been spared.There is no portrait of Herkimer in existence; all that we learn of his appearance was that he was short, stout, and full-faced. He was a man of ability, and, had he survived, from his character and courage he would doubtless have figured creditably in the partisan warfare waged in Eastern and Northern New York, if not in a wider sphere of action.

PETER GANSEVOORT.

The enemy had laid siege to Fort Schuyler, where Gansevoort lay with a small garrison. General Herkimer, though without much pretensions to military science, was a brave and prudent officer, and perfectly fitted for the occasion. He had called out the militia of Tryon County to the number of eight hundred. His plan was to make an attack upon the enemy simultaneously with a sortie from the fort, and he sent a messenger to effect that arrangement with Gansevoort. The signal for Herkimer’s advance was to be a single gun from Fort Schuyler. It was some time before the scout could make his way safely through the investing force. In the mean while some of the men grew impatient, and clamored for an immediate advance. Colonels Cox and Paris headed thisparty, and when Herkimer refused they denounced him as a coward. At length he submitted to a precipitous movement, at the same time saying that these very bold gentlemen would be the first to run. And so it proved.

GENERAL HERKIMER’S RESIDENCE.

The incidents of the fight are so minutely given in the ballad that no further explanation is needed. The Americans remained masters of the field, but at a fearful loss, of which that of Herkimer was not the least. Had the original plan been followed, much of the slaughter would have been spared.

There is no portrait of Herkimer in existence; all that we learn of his appearance was that he was short, stout, and full-faced. He was a man of ability, and, had he survived, from his character and courage he would doubtless have figured creditably in the partisan warfare waged in Eastern and Northern New York, if not in a wider sphere of action.

On the fifth of August, in the morn,I was ploughing between the rows of corn,When I heard Dirck Bergen blow his horn.I let the reins in quiet drop;I bade my horse in the furrow stop,And the sweet green leaves unheeded crop.Down at the fence I waited tillDirck galloped down the sloping hill,Blowing his conch-horn with a will.“Ho, neighbor! stop!” to Dirck I cried,“And tell me why so fast you ride—What is the news you scatter wide?”He drew the rein, and told me thenHow, with his seventeen hundred men,St. Leger vexed the land again.A fiendish crew around him stood—The Tory base, the Hessian rude,The painted prowler of the wood—The savage Brant was in his train,Before whose hatchet, quick to brain,Fell patriot blood in scarlet rain—

On the fifth of August, in the morn,I was ploughing between the rows of corn,When I heard Dirck Bergen blow his horn.

On the fifth of August, in the morn,

I was ploughing between the rows of corn,

When I heard Dirck Bergen blow his horn.

I let the reins in quiet drop;I bade my horse in the furrow stop,And the sweet green leaves unheeded crop.

I let the reins in quiet drop;

I bade my horse in the furrow stop,

And the sweet green leaves unheeded crop.

Down at the fence I waited tillDirck galloped down the sloping hill,Blowing his conch-horn with a will.

Down at the fence I waited till

Dirck galloped down the sloping hill,

Blowing his conch-horn with a will.

“Ho, neighbor! stop!” to Dirck I cried,“And tell me why so fast you ride—What is the news you scatter wide?”

“Ho, neighbor! stop!” to Dirck I cried,

“And tell me why so fast you ride—

What is the news you scatter wide?”

He drew the rein, and told me thenHow, with his seventeen hundred men,St. Leger vexed the land again.

He drew the rein, and told me then

How, with his seventeen hundred men,

St. Leger vexed the land again.

A fiendish crew around him stood—The Tory base, the Hessian rude,The painted prowler of the wood—

A fiendish crew around him stood—

The Tory base, the Hessian rude,

The painted prowler of the wood—

The savage Brant was in his train,Before whose hatchet, quick to brain,Fell patriot blood in scarlet rain—

The savage Brant was in his train,

Before whose hatchet, quick to brain,

Fell patriot blood in scarlet rain—

THE SITE OF OLD FORT SCHUYLER.

How all this force, to serve the crown,And win in civil strife renown,Before Fort Schuyler settled down,Where Gansevoort close with Willett lay—Their force too weak for open fray—Bristling like hunted bucks at bay.And Dirck, by Herkimer the stout,Was sent to noise the news about,And summon all to arm and out.Far must he spread the word that day,So, bidding me come to join the fray,And blowing his horn, he rode away.I had been married then a year;My wife to me was doubly dear,For a child had come our home to cheer.I had not mingled in the strifeThat swept the land; my aim in lifeTo tend my farm and cheer my wife.I watched my flocks and herds increase,And ploughed my land and held my peace:Men called me the Tory Abner Reece.Yet now the country needed allHer manly sons to break her thrall;Could I be deaf to her piteous call?I thought me of the cruel foe,The red-skinned Mingo, skulking low,The midnight raid, the secret blow—Hessians and Brunswickers, the leesOf Europe’s cup of miseries,And brutal Tories, worse than these—Britons, with rude, relentless hand:All these made up the cruel bandWhich came to spoil and vex the land.I felt my heart in anger leap—“No!” cried my spirit from its deep,“I will not here ignobly creep.“I have a strong arm for the fray;I have a rifle sure to slay;I fear no man by night nor day.“When prowling wolves have left their den,The hunter’s craft is needed then—The country must not lack for men.”So from the corn-rows green and tall,I led my plough-horse to the stall,Then took my rifle from the wall.I slung my pouch and powder-horn,I kissed my babe scarce three months born,And bade my wife farewell that morn.I journeyed steadily all that day—Through brake and brier I made my way;For stream or hill I did not stay.At set of sun I made my campMid alder bushes thick and damp,And at the dawn resumed my tramp.I reached the meeting-place at eight,But, though no laggard, came too late—They had not thought for me to wait.Oh, fatal haste, so soon to stir!Yet not the fault of Herkimer,Who knew his foe too well to err.Rash, headstrong men the others led,Who mocked at what the general said,And heaped contumely on his head.“You know not what you seek,” he cried;“Those are but fools who foes deride;And prudence dwells with courage tried.“My messenger left at set of sun;When once his errand has been done,Will sound Fort Schuyler’s signal-gun.“Wait till that cannon’s voice you hear,And then we’ll fall upon their rear,As Gansevoort to their van draws near.”Said Colonel Paris, then, “Not so!We left our homes to strike a blow;So lead us quickly to the foe.“Else all may see those do not errWho brand you as a coward curAnd skulking Tory, Herkimer.”But Herkimer only smiled at first—He knew those merely words at worstThat from hot-headed rashness burst.“I have been placed your path to guide,And shall I lead you, then,” he cried,“To the jaws of ruin gaping wide?”But Cox replied, “This talk is vain;If Herkimer fears he may be slain,Let him in safety here remain.”Flashed Herkimer’s eyes with fire at this,And sank his voice to an angry hiss—“Such shafts,” he cried, “my honor miss.“March on! but if I judge aright,You’ll find, when comes our foe in sight,The loudest boaster first in flight.”And so they were marching through a glenNot far from the mouth of Oriskany, whenI overtook their hindmost men.I saw Dirck Bergen’s honest faceAmong the rest; he had reached the placeAn hour before me in the race.He wrung my hand and told me all—“Look out,” said he, “for a rain of ballAnd the thickest shower that well can fall.“For Brant is watching round about,And long ere this, by many a scout,He knows his foes are armed and out.“We’ll have it heavily, by-and-by;But that’s no matter—one can but die,And safer it is to fight than fly.”I laughed a little my fear to hide;But I felt my memory backward glideTo the home I left on the river-side.I saw that cabin of logs once more,The ceiling low and the sanded floor,And my wife the cradle leaning o’er.I saw her bending with girlish grace,And I knew the mother was trying to traceThe father’s look in the infant’s face.The house-dog pricked his watchful ear—He heard some traveller passing near—She listened my coming step to hear.But soon dispersed that pleasant scene,And I glanced with vision clear and keenThrough the close-set boughs of the forest green.A deep ravine was in our way,Marshy and damp, and o’er it layA causeway formed of logs and clay.The spot was pleasant—stilly downFell forest shadows, cool and brown,From branch and bough and lofty crown.Fringing the foreground of the scene,I saw the slender birches leanLovingly o’er the tussocks green.The leaves were thickly set o’erhead,The low-growth dense around was spread—But suddenly filled my heart with dread.A sight, a sound the soul to shock—A dark face peering past a rock,The clicking of a rifle lock.Forth from a jet of fiery redLeaped to its mark the deadly lead—Dirck Bergen fell beside me dead.To life the sleeping echoes woke,As from each rock and tree there brokeA flash of fire, a wreath of smoke.Then rang around us yell on yell,As though the very fiends of hellHad risen in that gloomy dell.And though the foe we scarce could see,Still from each bush and rock and treeHe poured his fire incessantly.From a sheltering trunk I glanced around—Dying and dead bestrewed the ground,Though some by flight scant safety found.Ay, flight! as Herkimer had said,Appalled at blood-drops raining red,The rear-guard all like dastards fled.But Herkimer blenched not—clearer, then,His accents rang throughout the glen,Cheering the spirits of his men.And though his horse was slain, and heWas wounded sorely in the knee,A cooler man there could not be.He was not chafed nor stirred the least,But, gay as a guest at a wedding-feast,He bade them strip his dying beast.A famous seat the saddle madeBeneath a beech-tree’s spreading shade,From whence the battle he surveyed.All through the hottest of the fightHe sat there with his pipe alight,And gave his orders left and right.

How all this force, to serve the crown,And win in civil strife renown,Before Fort Schuyler settled down,

How all this force, to serve the crown,

And win in civil strife renown,

Before Fort Schuyler settled down,

Where Gansevoort close with Willett lay—Their force too weak for open fray—Bristling like hunted bucks at bay.

Where Gansevoort close with Willett lay—

Their force too weak for open fray—

Bristling like hunted bucks at bay.

And Dirck, by Herkimer the stout,Was sent to noise the news about,And summon all to arm and out.

And Dirck, by Herkimer the stout,

Was sent to noise the news about,

And summon all to arm and out.

Far must he spread the word that day,So, bidding me come to join the fray,And blowing his horn, he rode away.

Far must he spread the word that day,

So, bidding me come to join the fray,

And blowing his horn, he rode away.

I had been married then a year;My wife to me was doubly dear,For a child had come our home to cheer.

I had been married then a year;

My wife to me was doubly dear,

For a child had come our home to cheer.

I had not mingled in the strifeThat swept the land; my aim in lifeTo tend my farm and cheer my wife.

I had not mingled in the strife

That swept the land; my aim in life

To tend my farm and cheer my wife.

I watched my flocks and herds increase,And ploughed my land and held my peace:Men called me the Tory Abner Reece.

I watched my flocks and herds increase,

And ploughed my land and held my peace:

Men called me the Tory Abner Reece.

Yet now the country needed allHer manly sons to break her thrall;Could I be deaf to her piteous call?

Yet now the country needed all

Her manly sons to break her thrall;

Could I be deaf to her piteous call?

I thought me of the cruel foe,The red-skinned Mingo, skulking low,The midnight raid, the secret blow—

I thought me of the cruel foe,

The red-skinned Mingo, skulking low,

The midnight raid, the secret blow—

Hessians and Brunswickers, the leesOf Europe’s cup of miseries,And brutal Tories, worse than these—

Hessians and Brunswickers, the lees

Of Europe’s cup of miseries,

And brutal Tories, worse than these—

Britons, with rude, relentless hand:All these made up the cruel bandWhich came to spoil and vex the land.

Britons, with rude, relentless hand:

All these made up the cruel band

Which came to spoil and vex the land.

I felt my heart in anger leap—“No!” cried my spirit from its deep,“I will not here ignobly creep.

I felt my heart in anger leap—

“No!” cried my spirit from its deep,

“I will not here ignobly creep.

“I have a strong arm for the fray;I have a rifle sure to slay;I fear no man by night nor day.

“I have a strong arm for the fray;

I have a rifle sure to slay;

I fear no man by night nor day.

“When prowling wolves have left their den,The hunter’s craft is needed then—The country must not lack for men.”

“When prowling wolves have left their den,

The hunter’s craft is needed then—

The country must not lack for men.”

So from the corn-rows green and tall,I led my plough-horse to the stall,Then took my rifle from the wall.

So from the corn-rows green and tall,

I led my plough-horse to the stall,

Then took my rifle from the wall.

I slung my pouch and powder-horn,I kissed my babe scarce three months born,And bade my wife farewell that morn.

I slung my pouch and powder-horn,

I kissed my babe scarce three months born,

And bade my wife farewell that morn.

I journeyed steadily all that day—Through brake and brier I made my way;For stream or hill I did not stay.

I journeyed steadily all that day—

Through brake and brier I made my way;

For stream or hill I did not stay.

At set of sun I made my campMid alder bushes thick and damp,And at the dawn resumed my tramp.

At set of sun I made my camp

Mid alder bushes thick and damp,

And at the dawn resumed my tramp.

I reached the meeting-place at eight,But, though no laggard, came too late—They had not thought for me to wait.

I reached the meeting-place at eight,

But, though no laggard, came too late—

They had not thought for me to wait.

Oh, fatal haste, so soon to stir!Yet not the fault of Herkimer,Who knew his foe too well to err.

Oh, fatal haste, so soon to stir!

Yet not the fault of Herkimer,

Who knew his foe too well to err.

Rash, headstrong men the others led,Who mocked at what the general said,And heaped contumely on his head.

Rash, headstrong men the others led,

Who mocked at what the general said,

And heaped contumely on his head.

“You know not what you seek,” he cried;“Those are but fools who foes deride;And prudence dwells with courage tried.

“You know not what you seek,” he cried;

“Those are but fools who foes deride;

And prudence dwells with courage tried.

“My messenger left at set of sun;When once his errand has been done,Will sound Fort Schuyler’s signal-gun.

“My messenger left at set of sun;

When once his errand has been done,

Will sound Fort Schuyler’s signal-gun.

“Wait till that cannon’s voice you hear,And then we’ll fall upon their rear,As Gansevoort to their van draws near.”

“Wait till that cannon’s voice you hear,

And then we’ll fall upon their rear,

As Gansevoort to their van draws near.”

Said Colonel Paris, then, “Not so!We left our homes to strike a blow;So lead us quickly to the foe.

Said Colonel Paris, then, “Not so!

We left our homes to strike a blow;

So lead us quickly to the foe.

“Else all may see those do not errWho brand you as a coward curAnd skulking Tory, Herkimer.”

“Else all may see those do not err

Who brand you as a coward cur

And skulking Tory, Herkimer.”

But Herkimer only smiled at first—He knew those merely words at worstThat from hot-headed rashness burst.

But Herkimer only smiled at first—

He knew those merely words at worst

That from hot-headed rashness burst.

“I have been placed your path to guide,And shall I lead you, then,” he cried,“To the jaws of ruin gaping wide?”

“I have been placed your path to guide,

And shall I lead you, then,” he cried,

“To the jaws of ruin gaping wide?”

But Cox replied, “This talk is vain;If Herkimer fears he may be slain,Let him in safety here remain.”

But Cox replied, “This talk is vain;

If Herkimer fears he may be slain,

Let him in safety here remain.”

Flashed Herkimer’s eyes with fire at this,And sank his voice to an angry hiss—“Such shafts,” he cried, “my honor miss.

Flashed Herkimer’s eyes with fire at this,

And sank his voice to an angry hiss—

“Such shafts,” he cried, “my honor miss.

“March on! but if I judge aright,You’ll find, when comes our foe in sight,The loudest boaster first in flight.”

“March on! but if I judge aright,

You’ll find, when comes our foe in sight,

The loudest boaster first in flight.”

And so they were marching through a glenNot far from the mouth of Oriskany, whenI overtook their hindmost men.

And so they were marching through a glen

Not far from the mouth of Oriskany, when

I overtook their hindmost men.

I saw Dirck Bergen’s honest faceAmong the rest; he had reached the placeAn hour before me in the race.

I saw Dirck Bergen’s honest face

Among the rest; he had reached the place

An hour before me in the race.

He wrung my hand and told me all—“Look out,” said he, “for a rain of ballAnd the thickest shower that well can fall.

He wrung my hand and told me all—

“Look out,” said he, “for a rain of ball

And the thickest shower that well can fall.

“For Brant is watching round about,And long ere this, by many a scout,He knows his foes are armed and out.

“For Brant is watching round about,

And long ere this, by many a scout,

He knows his foes are armed and out.

“We’ll have it heavily, by-and-by;But that’s no matter—one can but die,And safer it is to fight than fly.”

“We’ll have it heavily, by-and-by;

But that’s no matter—one can but die,

And safer it is to fight than fly.”

I laughed a little my fear to hide;But I felt my memory backward glideTo the home I left on the river-side.

I laughed a little my fear to hide;

But I felt my memory backward glide

To the home I left on the river-side.

I saw that cabin of logs once more,The ceiling low and the sanded floor,And my wife the cradle leaning o’er.

I saw that cabin of logs once more,

The ceiling low and the sanded floor,

And my wife the cradle leaning o’er.

I saw her bending with girlish grace,And I knew the mother was trying to traceThe father’s look in the infant’s face.

I saw her bending with girlish grace,

And I knew the mother was trying to trace

The father’s look in the infant’s face.

The house-dog pricked his watchful ear—He heard some traveller passing near—She listened my coming step to hear.

The house-dog pricked his watchful ear—

He heard some traveller passing near—

She listened my coming step to hear.

But soon dispersed that pleasant scene,And I glanced with vision clear and keenThrough the close-set boughs of the forest green.

But soon dispersed that pleasant scene,

And I glanced with vision clear and keen

Through the close-set boughs of the forest green.

A deep ravine was in our way,Marshy and damp, and o’er it layA causeway formed of logs and clay.

A deep ravine was in our way,

Marshy and damp, and o’er it lay

A causeway formed of logs and clay.

The spot was pleasant—stilly downFell forest shadows, cool and brown,From branch and bough and lofty crown.

The spot was pleasant—stilly down

Fell forest shadows, cool and brown,

From branch and bough and lofty crown.

Fringing the foreground of the scene,I saw the slender birches leanLovingly o’er the tussocks green.

Fringing the foreground of the scene,

I saw the slender birches lean

Lovingly o’er the tussocks green.

The leaves were thickly set o’erhead,The low-growth dense around was spread—But suddenly filled my heart with dread.

The leaves were thickly set o’erhead,

The low-growth dense around was spread—

But suddenly filled my heart with dread.

A sight, a sound the soul to shock—A dark face peering past a rock,The clicking of a rifle lock.

A sight, a sound the soul to shock—

A dark face peering past a rock,

The clicking of a rifle lock.

Forth from a jet of fiery redLeaped to its mark the deadly lead—Dirck Bergen fell beside me dead.

Forth from a jet of fiery red

Leaped to its mark the deadly lead—

Dirck Bergen fell beside me dead.

To life the sleeping echoes woke,As from each rock and tree there brokeA flash of fire, a wreath of smoke.

To life the sleeping echoes woke,

As from each rock and tree there broke

A flash of fire, a wreath of smoke.

Then rang around us yell on yell,As though the very fiends of hellHad risen in that gloomy dell.

Then rang around us yell on yell,

As though the very fiends of hell

Had risen in that gloomy dell.

And though the foe we scarce could see,Still from each bush and rock and treeHe poured his fire incessantly.

And though the foe we scarce could see,

Still from each bush and rock and tree

He poured his fire incessantly.

From a sheltering trunk I glanced around—Dying and dead bestrewed the ground,Though some by flight scant safety found.

From a sheltering trunk I glanced around—

Dying and dead bestrewed the ground,

Though some by flight scant safety found.

Ay, flight! as Herkimer had said,Appalled at blood-drops raining red,The rear-guard all like dastards fled.

Ay, flight! as Herkimer had said,

Appalled at blood-drops raining red,

The rear-guard all like dastards fled.

But Herkimer blenched not—clearer, then,His accents rang throughout the glen,Cheering the spirits of his men.

But Herkimer blenched not—clearer, then,

His accents rang throughout the glen,

Cheering the spirits of his men.

And though his horse was slain, and heWas wounded sorely in the knee,A cooler man there could not be.

And though his horse was slain, and he

Was wounded sorely in the knee,

A cooler man there could not be.

He was not chafed nor stirred the least,But, gay as a guest at a wedding-feast,He bade them strip his dying beast.

He was not chafed nor stirred the least,

But, gay as a guest at a wedding-feast,

He bade them strip his dying beast.

A famous seat the saddle madeBeneath a beech-tree’s spreading shade,From whence the battle he surveyed.

A famous seat the saddle made

Beneath a beech-tree’s spreading shade,

From whence the battle he surveyed.

All through the hottest of the fightHe sat there with his pipe alight,And gave his orders left and right.

All through the hottest of the fight

He sat there with his pipe alight,

And gave his orders left and right.

GENERAL HERKIMER DIRECTING THE BATTLE.

Whoever could gaze at him and flee,The basest of poltroons would be—The sight chased every fear from me.None shrank the foe, though sore bestead;Each from his tree the bullet sped,And paid them back with lead for lead.The battle-shout, the dying groan,The hatchet’s crash, the rifle’s tone,Mixed with the wounded’s painful moan.Full many a stout heart bounding light,Full many a dark eye beaming bright,Were still’d in death and closed in night.I was not idle through the fray;But there was one alone that dayI had a fierce desire to slay.I had seen the face, and marked it well,That peered from the rock when Bergen fell;And I watched for that at every yell.No hound on scent more rapt could be,As I scanned the fight from behind the tree;And five I slew, but neither was he.At length I saw a warrior brainA neighbor’s son, young Andrew Lane,And stoop to scalp the fallen slain.’Twas he! my brain to throb began,My eager hands to the gunstock ran,And I dropped fresh priming in the pan.His savage work was speedily through;He raised and gave the scalp-halloo;Sure aim I took, and the trigger drew.Off to its mark the bullet sped;Leaped from his breast a current red;And the slayer of honest Dirck was dead.Upon us closer now they came;We formed in circles walled with flame,Which way they moved our front the same.Sore galled and thinned came Butler’s men,With a bayonet charge to clear the glen,And gallantly we met them then.Our wrath upon the curs to deal,There, hand to hand and steel to steel,We made their close-set column reel.Fiercely we fought ’mid fire and smoke,With rifle shot and hatchet stroke,When over our heads the thunder broke.And I have heard the oldest sayThat ne’er before that bloody daySuch storm was known as stopped our fray.’Twas one of the cloud-king’s victories—Down came the rain in gusty seas,Driving us under the heaviest trees.But short the respite that we got;The rain and thunder lasted not,And strife again grew fierce and hot.At the foot of a bank I took my stand,To pick out a man from a coming band,When I felt on my throat a foeman’s hand.At the tightening grasp my eyes grew dim;But I saw ’twas a Mingo, stout of limb,And fierce was the struggle I made with him.Deep peril hung upon my life;My foot gave way in the fearful strife,The wretch was o’er me with his knife.In my hair his eager fingers played,I felt the keen edge of his blade;But I struggled the harder undismayed.I had sunk before his deadly blow,When suddenly o’er me fell my foe—A friendly ball had laid him low.The Mohawks wavered—Brant in vainWould bring them to the charge again,For the chiefest of their braves were slain.We heard a firing far awayIn the distance where Fort Schuyler lay—’Twas Willett with Johnson making play.

Whoever could gaze at him and flee,The basest of poltroons would be—The sight chased every fear from me.

Whoever could gaze at him and flee,

The basest of poltroons would be—

The sight chased every fear from me.

None shrank the foe, though sore bestead;Each from his tree the bullet sped,And paid them back with lead for lead.

None shrank the foe, though sore bestead;

Each from his tree the bullet sped,

And paid them back with lead for lead.

The battle-shout, the dying groan,The hatchet’s crash, the rifle’s tone,Mixed with the wounded’s painful moan.

The battle-shout, the dying groan,

The hatchet’s crash, the rifle’s tone,

Mixed with the wounded’s painful moan.

Full many a stout heart bounding light,Full many a dark eye beaming bright,Were still’d in death and closed in night.

Full many a stout heart bounding light,

Full many a dark eye beaming bright,

Were still’d in death and closed in night.

I was not idle through the fray;But there was one alone that dayI had a fierce desire to slay.

I was not idle through the fray;

But there was one alone that day

I had a fierce desire to slay.

I had seen the face, and marked it well,That peered from the rock when Bergen fell;And I watched for that at every yell.

I had seen the face, and marked it well,

That peered from the rock when Bergen fell;

And I watched for that at every yell.

No hound on scent more rapt could be,As I scanned the fight from behind the tree;And five I slew, but neither was he.

No hound on scent more rapt could be,

As I scanned the fight from behind the tree;

And five I slew, but neither was he.

At length I saw a warrior brainA neighbor’s son, young Andrew Lane,And stoop to scalp the fallen slain.

At length I saw a warrior brain

A neighbor’s son, young Andrew Lane,

And stoop to scalp the fallen slain.

’Twas he! my brain to throb began,My eager hands to the gunstock ran,And I dropped fresh priming in the pan.

’Twas he! my brain to throb began,

My eager hands to the gunstock ran,

And I dropped fresh priming in the pan.

His savage work was speedily through;He raised and gave the scalp-halloo;Sure aim I took, and the trigger drew.

His savage work was speedily through;

He raised and gave the scalp-halloo;

Sure aim I took, and the trigger drew.

Off to its mark the bullet sped;Leaped from his breast a current red;And the slayer of honest Dirck was dead.

Off to its mark the bullet sped;

Leaped from his breast a current red;

And the slayer of honest Dirck was dead.

Upon us closer now they came;We formed in circles walled with flame,Which way they moved our front the same.

Upon us closer now they came;

We formed in circles walled with flame,

Which way they moved our front the same.

Sore galled and thinned came Butler’s men,With a bayonet charge to clear the glen,And gallantly we met them then.

Sore galled and thinned came Butler’s men,

With a bayonet charge to clear the glen,

And gallantly we met them then.

Our wrath upon the curs to deal,There, hand to hand and steel to steel,We made their close-set column reel.

Our wrath upon the curs to deal,

There, hand to hand and steel to steel,

We made their close-set column reel.

Fiercely we fought ’mid fire and smoke,With rifle shot and hatchet stroke,When over our heads the thunder broke.

Fiercely we fought ’mid fire and smoke,

With rifle shot and hatchet stroke,

When over our heads the thunder broke.

And I have heard the oldest sayThat ne’er before that bloody daySuch storm was known as stopped our fray.

And I have heard the oldest say

That ne’er before that bloody day

Such storm was known as stopped our fray.

’Twas one of the cloud-king’s victories—Down came the rain in gusty seas,Driving us under the heaviest trees.

’Twas one of the cloud-king’s victories—

Down came the rain in gusty seas,

Driving us under the heaviest trees.

But short the respite that we got;The rain and thunder lasted not,And strife again grew fierce and hot.

But short the respite that we got;

The rain and thunder lasted not,

And strife again grew fierce and hot.

At the foot of a bank I took my stand,To pick out a man from a coming band,When I felt on my throat a foeman’s hand.

At the foot of a bank I took my stand,

To pick out a man from a coming band,

When I felt on my throat a foeman’s hand.

At the tightening grasp my eyes grew dim;But I saw ’twas a Mingo, stout of limb,And fierce was the struggle I made with him.

At the tightening grasp my eyes grew dim;

But I saw ’twas a Mingo, stout of limb,

And fierce was the struggle I made with him.

Deep peril hung upon my life;My foot gave way in the fearful strife,The wretch was o’er me with his knife.

Deep peril hung upon my life;

My foot gave way in the fearful strife,

The wretch was o’er me with his knife.

In my hair his eager fingers played,I felt the keen edge of his blade;But I struggled the harder undismayed.

In my hair his eager fingers played,

I felt the keen edge of his blade;

But I struggled the harder undismayed.

I had sunk before his deadly blow,When suddenly o’er me fell my foe—A friendly ball had laid him low.

I had sunk before his deadly blow,

When suddenly o’er me fell my foe—

A friendly ball had laid him low.

The Mohawks wavered—Brant in vainWould bring them to the charge again,For the chiefest of their braves were slain.

The Mohawks wavered—Brant in vain

Would bring them to the charge again,

For the chiefest of their braves were slain.

We heard a firing far awayIn the distance where Fort Schuyler lay—’Twas Willett with Johnson making play.

We heard a firing far away

In the distance where Fort Schuyler lay—

’Twas Willett with Johnson making play.

MARINUS WILLETT.

Advancing, then, with friendly cries,A band of patriots met our eyes—The Tories of Johnson in disguise.They came as though to aid our band,With cheerful front and friendly hand—An artful trick and ably planned.We hailed their coming with a cheer,But the keen eye of GardinierSaw through their mask as they drew near.“They think,” he cried, “by tricks like these,To lock our sense and bear the keys—Look! those are Johnson’s Refugees!”A deadly purpose in us rose;There might be quarter for our foesOf Mingo breed, but none for those.For cabins fired, and old men slain,And outraged women pleading vain,Cried vengeance on those sons of Cain.A hurtling volley made to tell,And then, with one wild, savage yell,Resistless on their ranks we fell.The Mohawks see their allies die;Dismayed, they raise the warning cryOf “Oonah!” then they break and fly.A panic seized the startled foe;They show no front, they strike no blow,As through the forest in rout they go.We could not follow—weak and wornWe stood upon the field that morn;Never was triumph so forlorn.For of our band who fought that dayOne half or dead or wounded lay,When closed that fierce and fearful fray.And on that field, ere daylight’s close,We buried our dead, but mourned not thoseWe laid to rest beside our foes.Revenge, not grief, our souls possest—We heaped the earth upon each breast,And left our brothers to their rest.

Advancing, then, with friendly cries,A band of patriots met our eyes—The Tories of Johnson in disguise.

Advancing, then, with friendly cries,

A band of patriots met our eyes—

The Tories of Johnson in disguise.

They came as though to aid our band,With cheerful front and friendly hand—An artful trick and ably planned.

They came as though to aid our band,

With cheerful front and friendly hand—

An artful trick and ably planned.

We hailed their coming with a cheer,But the keen eye of GardinierSaw through their mask as they drew near.

We hailed their coming with a cheer,

But the keen eye of Gardinier

Saw through their mask as they drew near.

“They think,” he cried, “by tricks like these,To lock our sense and bear the keys—Look! those are Johnson’s Refugees!”

“They think,” he cried, “by tricks like these,

To lock our sense and bear the keys—

Look! those are Johnson’s Refugees!”

A deadly purpose in us rose;There might be quarter for our foesOf Mingo breed, but none for those.

A deadly purpose in us rose;

There might be quarter for our foes

Of Mingo breed, but none for those.

For cabins fired, and old men slain,And outraged women pleading vain,Cried vengeance on those sons of Cain.

For cabins fired, and old men slain,

And outraged women pleading vain,

Cried vengeance on those sons of Cain.

A hurtling volley made to tell,And then, with one wild, savage yell,Resistless on their ranks we fell.

A hurtling volley made to tell,

And then, with one wild, savage yell,

Resistless on their ranks we fell.

The Mohawks see their allies die;Dismayed, they raise the warning cryOf “Oonah!” then they break and fly.

The Mohawks see their allies die;

Dismayed, they raise the warning cry

Of “Oonah!” then they break and fly.

A panic seized the startled foe;They show no front, they strike no blow,As through the forest in rout they go.

A panic seized the startled foe;

They show no front, they strike no blow,

As through the forest in rout they go.

We could not follow—weak and wornWe stood upon the field that morn;Never was triumph so forlorn.

We could not follow—weak and worn

We stood upon the field that morn;

Never was triumph so forlorn.

For of our band who fought that dayOne half or dead or wounded lay,When closed that fierce and fearful fray.

For of our band who fought that day

One half or dead or wounded lay,

When closed that fierce and fearful fray.

And on that field, ere daylight’s close,We buried our dead, but mourned not thoseWe laid to rest beside our foes.

And on that field, ere daylight’s close,

We buried our dead, but mourned not those

We laid to rest beside our foes.

Revenge, not grief, our souls possest—We heaped the earth upon each breast,And left our brothers to their rest.

Revenge, not grief, our souls possest—

We heaped the earth upon each breast,

And left our brothers to their rest.

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