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234 Ballads and Songs of Michigan
93 THE AMERICAN VOLUNTEER
From the Gernsey manuscript.
i The vale where the stream steals softly along
Through the green that did echo with music, but now Looks mournful; and mute is the meadowlark's song, For the sun had retired from the hill's shady brow.
2 Hark, hark, hear that yell; 'tis the war hoop's dread sound; 'Tis the murdering voice that bids pity retire.
Behold from yon woods where the savages bound, See they enter yon cottage. Ah, shriek, 'tis on fire.
3 The gleam spread abroad on the wings of the night, And the vale from the cot to our cabin is seen, Distracted with terrible cries while the light
Shews these demonds of death and their terrible mien.
4 Ah, fly, they approach; fly farther away.
Tis my mother I hear, sir, she calls me to save Thy infant, thy grandfather, helpless and gray. Take this sword, thou canst pity, heaven knows thou art brave.
5 But one savage bled, he had struck but one blow When the blade once so frightful was broken in twain. He fled thus disarmed from the pitiless foe,
But he fled to his cabin for safety in vain.
6 The barr'd doors were broken, the streams of despair. Lo! trumpet is heard and a banner in sight.
The trampling of steed clatters round in the air; Mounted warriors appear, and they rush on to fight.
7 The murdering hatchet now frightful no more At the feet of the volunteer riflemen lay.
The savages wreathe in their blood on the floor,
And their death-glaring eye is the quick flashing blaze.
8 The morning rose cheerful, the village looked gay, And the soldier secured from the helpless a tear. He mounted his steed while his grandfather gray Utered, "Heaven protect thee, thou brave volunteer." |
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