The boy's book of battle-lyrics
Part 1
Transcriber’s Note Italic text displayed as: _italic_
THE BOY’S BOOK
OF
BATTLE-LYRICS
A COLLECTION OF VERSES ILLUSTRATING SOME NOTABLE EVENTS IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, FROM THE COLONIAL PERIOD TO THE OUTBREAK OF THE SECTIONAL WAR
BY
THOS. DUNN ENGLISH, M.D., LL.D.
_WITH HISTORICAL NOTES AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS OF PERSONS, SCENES, AND PLACES_
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
1885
Copyright, 1885, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
TO
ADOLPH SCHALK, ESQ.
AS A RECOGNITION OF MANY YEARS OF UNBROKEN FRIENDSHIP, AND AS A TOKEN OF ESTEEM FOR HIS MANLINESS AND WORTH
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY
THE AUTHOR
PREFACE.
During the last twenty-five years my work in verse has been mainly confined to illustrating the history of the United States, with occasional studies of local life and character. Of this, judging by notices of the press, and their appearance in compilations of a patriotic or martial nature, the metrical narratives of battles seem to have been most approved; and it occurred to me that a volume embracing my productions in that line of literary labor might meet with popular favor. My first intention was to take up every notable event, so that the book might be a complete metrical history, and I prepared partly the matter for the purpose, including the capture of the _Serapis_ and the achievements of _Old Ironsides_. But I found the volume would be inconveniently large, and I abandoned my plan reluctantly.
The historical sketches prefixed in the proper places will be found full, unless the details are faithfully given in the text, when the introductions are purposely made meagre. In either case they will be found to be accurate, the verses being, as I have styled them, “metrical narratives” rather than poems. In that form, I trust, they more readily impress on the mind of the reader a sense of the patriotism and courage of our forefathers, and give a notion of the nature of the struggle by which these States emerged from a dependent condition to take high rank among the peoples of the world. The story of each event being told in the first person, the style and language are intentionally marked by the peculiarities of the imaginary narrator. And in this connection it will be observed that, because of the nearness of the conflict, the battles of the late sectional war have been avoided, and the two incidents of that period touched on at the close are personal, and not likely to offend even the most sensitive.
T. D. E.
NEWARK, N. J., _July 30, 1885_.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE vii
_De Soto’s Expedition_ 1
THE FALL OF MAUBILA 2
_Bacon’s Rebellion_ 12
THE BURNING OF JAMESTOWN 13
_The Deerfield Massacre_ 16
THE SACK OF DEERFIELD 17
_The Lewises_ 24
THE FIGHT OF JOHN LEWIS 24
_The First Blood Drawn_ 31
THE FIGHT AT LEXINGTON 33
_Bombardment of Fort Sullivan_ 40
SULLIVAN’S ISLAND 41
_A Turn of the Tide_ 53
THE SURPRISE AT TRENTON 54
_Following the Operations at Trenton_ 61
ASSUNPINK AND PRINCETON 63
_Donald M’Donald_ 67
COLONEL HARPER’S CHARGE 67
_Oriskany_ 70
THE FIGHT AT ORISKANY 71
_Baum’s Expedition_ 83
THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON 85
_The Capture of Burgoyne_ 90
ARNOLD AT STILLWATER 91
_Siege of Fort Henry_ 95
BETTY ZANE 96
_Operations at Monmouth_ 100
THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH 103
_John Berry, the Loyalist_ 108
JACK, THE REGULAR 108
_Tarleton’s Defeat_ 112
THE BATTLE OF THE COWPENS 113
_The Affair of Cherry Valley_ 118
DEATH OF WALTER BUTLER 119
_The Fight of the Mountaineers_ 129
THE BATTLE OF KING’S MOUNTAIN 131
_Mrs. Merrill’s Defence_ 139
THE LONG-KNIFE SQUAW 139
_The Last Battle of the War_ 144
THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS 149
_El Molino del Rey_ 156
BATTLE OF THE KING’S MILL 156
_A Tale of the War_ 160
THE FENCING-MASTER 160
_An Ambuscade_ 164
THE CHARGE BY THE FORD 164
_A New Folk-song_ 166
FLAG OF THE RAINBOW 166
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
“—ON OUR CHIEFTAIN SPEEDED, RALLIED QUICK } THE FLEEING FORCES” } _Frontispiece_
HERNANDO DE SOTO 1
JAMESTOWN AS IT IS 12
ELEAZER WILLIAMS 16
“HUGE HE WAS, AND BRAVE AND BRAWNY, BUT I MET THE SLAYER TAWNY” 19
“FOR WHILE THEY THE HOUSE WERE HOLDING, BALLS THE WIVES WERE QUICKLY MOULDING” 21
CLARK’S HOUSE, LEXINGTON 31
SAMUEL ADAMS 31
THE LEXINGTON MASSACRE 32
JOHN HANCOCK 32
FIGHT AT THE BRIDGE 33
BATTLE-GROUND AT CONCORD 35
MERIAM’S CORNER, ON THE LEXINGTON ROAD 36
HALT OF TROOPS NEAR ELISHA JONES’S HOUSE 36
THE PROVINCIALS ON PUNKATASSET 37
MONUMENT AT CONCORD 39
WILLIAM MOULTRIE 40
PLAN OF FORT ON SULLIVAN’S ISLAND 40
SOUTH CAROLINA FLAG 40
SULLIVAN’S ISLAND AND THE BRITISH FLEET AT THE TIME OF THE ATTACK 40
SIR HENRY CLINTON 42
SIR PETER PARKER 46
MOULTRIE MONUMENT, WITH JASPER’S STATUE 49
CHARLESTON IN 1780 51
TRENTON—1777 53
RAHL’S HEAD-QUARTERS 54
BATTLE OF TRENTON 55
SUBSEQUENT OPERATIONS 61
FRIENDS’ MEETING-HOUSE 62
VIEW OF THE BATTLE-GROUND NEAR PRINCETON 62
BATTLE OF PRINCETON 66
THE BATTLE-GROUND OF ORISKANY 70
PETER GANSEVOORT 70
GENERAL HERKIMER’S RESIDENCE 71
THE SITE OF OLD FORT SCHUYLER 72
GENERAL HERKIMER DIRECTING THE BATTLE 78
MARINUS WILLETT 81
MAP OF BENNINGTON HEIGHTS 83
VAN SCHAIK’S MILL 84
JOHN STARK 84
THE BATTLE-GROUND OF BENNINGTON 89
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL BURGOYNE 90
HORATIO GATES 90
BENEDICT ARNOLD 91
“FIVE TIMES WE CAPTURED THEIR CANNON, AND FIVE TIMES THEY TOOK THEM AGAIN” 92
“FIRING ONE PARTHIAN VOLLEY” 94
GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 95
PLAN OF THE BATTLE 100
LAFAYETTE IN 1777 101
GENERAL WAYNE 101
HENRY KNOX 102
FREEHOLD MEETING-HOUSE 102
BATTLE-GROUND AT MONMOUTH 103
WASHINGTON REBUKING LEE 105
MOLLY PITCHER 107
BANASTRE TARLETON 112
DANIEL MORGAN 112
WILLIAM WASHINGTON 114
JOHN E. HOWARD 116
JOSEPH BRANT 118
DISTANT VIEW OF CHERRY VALLEY 119
COLONEL ISAAC SHELBY 129
KING’S MOUNTAIN BATTLE-GROUND 130
ANDREW JACKSON 144
VILLERÉ’S MANSION 145
“THE HERMITAGE,” JACKSON’S RESIDENCE, IN 1861 146
JACKSON’S TOMB 147
PLAIN OF CHALMETTE.—BATTLE-GROUND 148
JOHN COFFEE 148
STATUE OF JACKSON IN FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL 149
THE LAST CHARGE 158
THE BOY’S
BOOK OF BATTLE LYRICS.
_DE SOTO’S EXPEDITION._
Hernando de Soto was of good Spanish family, and started early upon a career of adventure. He was with Francisco Pizarro, and took a prominent part in the conquest of Peru. Some account of his actions while with the Pizarros will be found in Helps’s “Spanish Conquest in America.” He particularly distinguished himself in the battle which resulted in the conquest of Cuzco, and desired to be the lieutenant of Almagro in the invasion of Chili; but in this he was disappointed. Returning to Spain with much wealth, he married into the Bobadilla family, and became a favorite with the king. Here he conceived the notion of conquering Florida, which he believed to abound in gold and precious stones. Offering to do this at his own expense, the king gave him permission, and at the same time appointed him governor of Cuba. De Soto set sail from Spain in April, 1538, but remained in Cuba some time fitting out his expedition, which did not arrive at Florida until the following year, when it landed at Tampa Bay. His force consisted of twelve hundred men, with four hundred horses, and he took with him a number of domestic animals. In quest of gold, he penetrated the territory now known as the States of Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, and Mississippi, finally striking the Mississippi River, which he called the Rio Grande, at or near the Lower Chickasaw Bluffs. He found the inhabitants to be quite unlike the Peruvians. He met with a fierce resistance from the natives, and by severe hardships and bloody conflicts found his army very much reduced in numbers. In 1542 De Soto died of a fever. To prevent the mutilation of his body, it was enclosed in a coffin hollowed from the trunk of a tree, and sunk at midnight in the great river. The command then devolved on Moscoso, who escaped with his comrades by way of the river, and reached Mexico in a miserable condition.
It was during this raid, on the 18th of October, 1539, that the battle with the Mobilians was fought. The incidents, so far as they have been gathered from all sources, are faithfully given in the ballad, with one exception. The speech of Tuscaloosa was in the shape of a message, and was delivered by one of his men after the chief had escaped and found refuge in his “palace,” which was probably a hut more commodious than the others in the town. The Spaniards, in spite of their superiority of weapons, had much the worst of the affair at one time, and might have been disastrously defeated but for the opportune arrival of Moscoso with the reserve of four hundred fresh men. After that the battle changed to a mere massacre.
The “singing women” described in the text must have been picked Amazons, for the women in general, and children, had been previously sent to a place of refuge by the Mobilians in anticipation of a fight. The slaughter of the poorly armed natives was very great, but the invaders suffered severely. Not only were eighty-two killed, including the nephew and nephew-in-law of the Adelantado (as De Soto was styled), but none of the Spaniards escaped severe wounds. To add to their sufferings, the medicines and surgical appliances, having been placed in the town previous to the breaking out of the conflict, were burned, and all the surgeons but one were killed. De Soto himself received an arrow in his thigh. The missile was not extracted until after the battle, and he was forced to continue the fight standing in his stirrups.
The place of the battle is supposed to be what is now known as Choctaw Bluff, in Clarke County, Alabama.
_THE FALL OF MAUBILA._
Hearken the stirring story The soldier has to tell, Of fierce and bloody battle, Contested long and well, Ere walled Maubila, stoutly held, Before our forces fell.
Now many years have circled Since that October day, When proudly to Maubila De Soto took his way, With men-at-arms and cavaliers In terrible array.
Oh, never sight more goodly In any land was seen; And never better soldiers Than those he led have been, More prompt to handle arquebus, Or wield their sabres keen.
The sun was at meridian, His hottest rays fell down Alike on soldier’s corselet And on the friar’s gown; The breeze was hushed as on we rode Right proudly to the town.
First came the bold De Soto, In all his manly pride, The gallant Don Diego, His nephew, by his side; A yard behind Juan Ortiz rode, Interpreter and guide.
Baltasar de Gallegos, Impetuous, fierce, and hot; Francisco de Figarro, Since by an arrow shot; And slender Juan de Guzman, who In battle faltered not.
Luis Bravo de Xeres, That gallant cavalier; Alonzo de Cormono, Whose spirit knew no fear; The Marquis of Astorga, and Vasquez, the cannoneer.
Andres de Vasconcellos, Juan Coles, young and fair, Roma de Cardenoso, Him of the yellow hair— Rode gallant in their bravery, Straight to the public square.
And there, in sombre garments, Were monks of Cuba four, Fray Juan de Gallegos, And other priests a score, Who sacramental bread and wine And holy relics bore.
And next eight hundred soldiers In closest order come, Some with Biscayan lances, With arquebuses some, Timing their tread to martial notes Of trump and fife and drum.
Loud sang the gay Mobilians, Light danced their daughters brown; Sweet sounded pleasant music Through all the swarming town; But ’mid the joy one sullen brow Was lowering with a frown.
The haughty Tuscaloosa, The sovereign of the land, With moody face, and thoughtful, Rode at our chief’s right hand, And cast from time to time a glance Of hatred at the band.
And when that gay procession Made halt to take a rest, And eagerly the people To see the strangers prest, The frowning King, in wrathful tones, De Soto thus addressed:
“To bonds and to dishonor By faithless friends trepanned, For days beside you, Spaniard, The ruler of the land Has ridden as a prisoner, Subject to your command.
“He was not born the fetters Of baser men to wear, And tells you this, De Soto, Hard though it be to bear— Let those beware the panther’s rage Who follow to his lair.
“Back to your isle of Cuba! Slink to your den again, And tell your robber sovereign, The mighty lord of Spain, Whoso would strive this land to win Shall find his efforts vain.
“And, save it be your purpose Within my realm to die, Let not your forces linger Our deadly anger nigh, Lest food for vultures and for wolves Your mangled forms should lie.”
Then, spurning courtly offers, He left our chieftain’s side, And crossing the enclosure With quick and lengthened stride, He passed within his palace gates, And there our wrath defied.
Now came up Charamilla, Who led our troop of spies, And said unto our captain, With tones that showed surprise, “A mighty force within the town, In wait to crush us, lies.
“The babes and elder women Were sent at break of day Into the forest yonder, Five leagues or more away; While in yon huts ten thousand men Wait eager for the fray.”
“What say ye now, my comrades?” De Soto asked his men; “Shall we, before these traitors, Go backward, baffled, then; Or, sword in hand, attack the foe Who crouches in his den?”
Before their loud responses Had died upon the ear, A savage stood before them, Who said, in accents clear, “Ho! robbers base and coward thieves! Assassin Spaniards, hear!
“No longer shall our sovereign, Born noble, great, and free, Be led beside your master, A shameful sight to see, While weapons here to strike you down, Or hands to grasp them be.”
As spoke the brawny savage Full wroth our comrades grew— Baltasar de Gallegos His heavy weapon drew, And dealt the boaster such a stroke As clave his body through.
Then rushed the swart Mobilians Like hornets from their nest; Against our bristling lances Was bared each savage breast; With arrow-head and club and stone, Upon our band they prest.
“Retreat in steady order! But slay them as ye go!” Exclaimed the brave De Soto, And with each word a blow That sent a savage soul to doom He dealt upon the foe.
“Strike well who would our honor From spot or tarnish save! Strike down the haughty Pagan, The infidel and slave! Saint Mary Mother sits above, And smiles upon the brave.
“Strike! all my gallant comrades! Strike! gentlemen of Spain! Upon the traitor wretches Your deadly anger rain, Or never to your native land Return in pride again!”
Then hosts of angry foemen We fiercely held at bay, Through living walls of Pagans We cut our bloody way; And though by thousands round they swarmed, We kept our firm array.
At length they feared to follow; We stood upon the plain, And dressed our shattered columns; When, slacking bridle rein, De Soto, wounded as he was, Led to the charge again.
For now our gallant horsemen Their steeds again had found, That had been fastly tethered Unto the trees around, Though some of these, by arrows slain, Lay stretched upon the ground.
And as the riders mounted, The foe, in joyous tones, Gave vent to shouts of triumph, And hurled a shower of stones; But soon the shouts were changed to wails, The cries of joy to moans.
Down on the scared Mobilians The furious rush was led; Down fell the howling victims Beneath the horses’ tread; The angered chargers trod alike On dying and on dead.
Back to the wooden ramparts, With cut and thrust and blow, We drove the panting savage, The very walls below, Till those above upon our heads Huge rocks began to throw.
Whenever we retreated The swarming foemen came— Their wild and matchless courage Put even ours to shame— Rushing upon our lances’ points, And arquebuses’ flame.
Three weary hours we fought them, And often each gave way; Three weary hours, uncertain The fortune of the day; And ever where they fiercest fought De Soto led the fray.
Baltasar de Gallegos Right well displayed his might; His sword fell ever fatal, Death rode its flash of light; And where his horse’s head was turned The foe gave way in fright.
At length before our daring The Pagans had to yield, And in their stout enclosure They sought to find a shield, And left us, wearied with our toil, The masters of the field.
Now worn and spent and weary, Our force was scattered round, Some seeking for their comrades, Some seated on the ground, When sudden fell upon our ears A single trumpet’s sound.
“Up! ready make for storming!” That speaks Moscoso near; He comes with stainless sabre, He comes with spotless spear; But stains of blood and spots of gore Await his weapons here.
Soon, formed in four divisions, Around the order goes— “To front with battle-axes! No moment for repose. At signal of an arquebus, Rain on the gates your blows.”
Not long that fearful crashing, The gates in splinters fall; And some, though sorely wounded, Climb o’er the crowded wall; No rampart’s height can keep them back, No danger can appall.
Then redly rained the carnage— None asked for quarter there; Men fought with all the fury Born of a wild despair; And shrieks and groans and yells of hate Were mingled in the air.