“Surrender!”[20] order’d Allen then; “If not, by Him on high, Your garrison—without a hope For quarter from us—die!” The captain’s anger now had burst The spell of night’s repose. “Surrender?” hiss’d he—then turn’d pale To hear loud shouts that rose. “And who are you?” he stammer’d out. “And whose is this ado? And whose the name in which you come And bid us yield to you?” “The name of Great Jehovah,[21] and”— Said Allen, drawing nigh, “The Continental Congress!”—then He flash’d his sword on high. “Jehovah?—Congress?” growl’d his foe; But, cow’d by Allen’s eye,[20] Jehovah, in the man, at least, He did not dare defy. The day was won; the garrison Filed out across the green. More generous welcome where they came, I think were seldom seen. Not one who bore a cumbering gun Or lugg’d a weighty sword, But we to ease him of his load, Would our relief afford. Alack, we stack’d our shoulders full, Relieving them of care, Then proved our good-will, Arab-like, By taking breakfast there. For days and days we never ceas’d Attending to them thus, Until, as pride escorts a bride, We walk’d them home with us.[22] And then the fort—ah me, to see The trouble rare it took To clear the space, and give the place A less unfriendly look! Tenscore of cannon, mounds of flint,[23] And tons of guns and balls— We waited weeks, to find the means To cart them out the walls. But first, we mail’d a message home; And I have heard it said, In many a place, the floor was wet With tears when it was read. At Cambridge, at the news, the air With such a shout was rent, It almost equal’d there the roar Of guns our fort had sent. And Allen?—Allen lived and thrived, And conquer’d all that tract, Where Britain could not hold a fort[24] That once our boys attack’d. But war has tricks; and life has turns; Misfortunes find the true; And Allen once, across the sea, Was borne a prisoner too.[25] Yet heroes’ homes are human hearts, And England’s crowds would cling About the form of him they felt Was grander than their king. He came back home, and church bells rang— You might, in truth, have thought[25] A second Christmas day had come, And Saviour’s advent brought;— And guns were fired; and, hail’d with cheers, Vermont bade all men call This bravest, brightest of her sons, The General of them all.[25] And all the people while he lived, They loved his eagle eye[26]; And when he died—ah, friends, you know Such spirits cannot die! To-day, go search those mountain woods And valleys, humbly trod By souls whose pure, strong faith holds on To country, home, and God;