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 must soon die; for he must soon 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. 'Twas 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.”
1776.

BATTLE OF TRENTON.

(Preserved in 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.

3

In vain they fought, in vain they iled;

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.

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-0-0-0, boys!

As to Sa-ra-tog' he came, thinking how to jo the game,

Tullalo, tullalo, tu alo, 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!

YANKEE DOODLE'S EXPEDITION TO RHODE ISLAND.

(A Tory Account of the unsuccessful attack on the British in Newport: July, 1778.

From Rirington's Gazette, 3 Oct., 1718.]
FROM Lewis, Monsieur Gerard came,

To Congress in this town, sir,
They bowed to him, and he to them,

And then they all sat down, sir.

Begar, said Monsieur, one grand coup

You shall bientot behold, sir;
This was believed as gospel true,

And Jonathan felt bold, sir.

So Yankee Doodle did forget

The sound of British drum, sir,
How oft it made him quake and sweat,

In spite of Yankee rum, sir.

He took his wallet on his back,

His rifle on his shoulder,
And veowed Rhode Island to attack,

Before he was much older.

In dread array their tattered crew

Advanced with colors spread, sir,
Their fifes played Yankee doodle, doo,

King Hancock at their head, sir.

What numbers bravely crossed the seas

I cannot well determine,
A swarm of rebels and of feas,

And every other vermin.

Their mighty hearts might shrink they thought,

For all flesh only grass is,
A plenteous. *ore they therefore brought

Of whiskey and molasses.

They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak,

So did their good ally, sir,
And take him prisoner in a week,

But that was all my eye, sir.

As Jonathan so much desired

To shine in martial story,
D’E,taing with politesse retired,

To leave him all the glory.