NATHAN HALE, THE IDEAL PATRIOT
One hero dies, a thousand new ones rise,
As flowers are sown where perfect blossomsfall,
Then quite unknown, the name of Halenow cries.
Where duty sounds her silent call;
With head erect he moves, and stately pace,
To meet an awful doom, no ribald jest
Brings scorn or hate to that exalted face,
His thoughts are far away, poised and atrest;
Now on the scaffold see him turn and bid.
Farewell to home and all his heart holdsdear,
Majestic presence, all men's weakness hid,
And all his strength in that one hour madeclear,
"I have one last regret, that is to give
But one poor life, that my own land maylive!"
WILLIAM ORDWAY PARTRIDGE, 1902
WARREN'S ADDRESS
Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!
Will ye give it up to slaves?
Will ye look for greener graves?
Hope ye mercy still?
What's the mercy despots feel?
Hear it in that battle-peal!
Read it on yon bristling steel.
Ask it,---ye who will.
Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
Will ye to your homes retire?
Look behind you!---they're a-fire!
And, before you, see
Who have done it!---From the vale
On they come!---And will ye quail?---
Leaden rain and iron hail
Let their welcome be!
In the God of battles trust!
Die we may,---and die we must;---
But, O, where can dust to dust
Be consigned so well,
As where Heaven its dews shall shed
On the martyred patriot's bed,
And the rocks shall raise their head,
Of his deeds to tell!
JOHN PIERPONT
JOHN
PIERPONT
JOHN
PIERPONT (1785-1866)
MOLLY PITCHER
It was hurry and scurry at Monmouth town,
For Lee was beating a wild retreat;
The British were riding the Yankee down,
And panic was pressing on flying feet.
Galloping down like a hurricane
Washington rode with his sword swung
high,
Mighty as he of the Trojan plain
Fired by a courage from the sky.
"Halt, and stand to you guns!" he cried.
And a bombardier made swift reply.
Wheeling his cannon into the tide,
He fell 'neath the shot of a foeman
high.
Molly Pitcher sprang to his side,
Fired as she saw her husband do.
Telling the king in his stubborn pride
Women like men to their homes are true.
Washington rode from the bloody fray
Up to the gun that a woman manned.
"Molly Pitcher, you saved the day,"
He said, as he gave her a hero's hand.
He named her sergeant with manly praise,
While her war-brown face was wet with
tears-
A woman has ever a woman's ways,
And the army was wild with cheers.
KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD
