Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;
They took the spear — but left the shield.

Led by thy conquering standards, 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,

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We trust they find a happier land,

A bright Phoebus of their own.

The hunter still the deer pursues,

The hunter and the deer

a shade!

And long shall timorous Fancy see
The painted chief, and pointed spear,
And Reason's self shall bow the knee

To shadows and delusions here.

EUTAW SPRINGS

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 groves 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 standards, 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 bright Phoebus of their own.

FRANCIS HOPKINSON

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS

GALLANTS attend and hear a friend
Trill forth harmonious ditty,
Strange things I'll tell which late befell
In Philadelphia city.

'Twas 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.

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"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 quaked;
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran through the streets half naked.

Sir William he, snug as a flea,

Lay all this time a snoring,

Nor dreamed of harm as he lay warm,
In bed with Mrs. Loring.

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?"

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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,

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