But to storm with all the forces we have mentioned was too risky; So they hurried off to Richmond for the GOVERNMENT MARINES-- Tore them from their weeping matrons--fired their souls with Bourbon whiskey-- Till they battered down Brown’s castle with their ladders and machines; And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Received three bayonet stabs, and a cut on his brave old crown. Tallyho! the old Virginia gentry gathered to the baying! In they rush and kill the game, shooting lustily away![A] And whene’er they slay a rebel, those who come too late for slaying, Not to lose a share of glory, fire their bullets in his clay; And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Saw his sons fall dead beside him, and between them laid him down. How the conquerors wore their laurels--how they hastened on the trials-- How Old Brown was placed, half-dying, on the Charlestown Court-House floor-- How he spoke his grand oration, in the scorn of all denials-- What the brave old madman told them--these are known the country o’er. “Hang Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown,” Said the Judge, “and all such rebels!” with his most judicial frown. But, Virginians, don’t do it! for I tell you that the flagon, Filled with blood of Old Brown’s offspring, was first poured by Southern hands: And each drop from Old Brown’s life-veins, like the red gore of the dragon, May spring up a vengeful Fury, hissing through your slave-worn lands; And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, May trouble you more than ever, when you’ve nailed his coffin down! FOOTNOTES: [A] “The hunt was up--woe to the game enclosed within that fiery circle! The town was occupied by a thousand or fifteen hundred men, including volunteer companies from Shepherdstown, Charlestown, Winchester, and elsewhere; but the armed and unorganized multitude largely predominated, giving the affair more the character of a great hunting scene than that of a battle. The savage game was holed beyond all possibility of escape.”--_Virginia Correspondent of Harper’s Weekly._ [From the Boston Liberator.] JOHN BROWN OF OSAWATOMIE. BY G. D. WHITMORE. So you’ve convicted old John Brown! brave old Brown of Osawatomie! And you gave him a _chivalrous_ trial, lying groaning on the floor, With his body ripped with gashes, deaf with pain from sabre slashes, Over the head received, when the deadly fight was o’er; Round him guns with lighted matches, judge and lawyers pale as ashes-- For he might, perhaps, come to again, and put you all to flight, Or surround you, as before!