“And let him pledge his honor To let the stamps alone,” Said Isaac Sears; and all the crowd Who heard him say it, shouted loud To make his words their own. The people waited long then, And hoped the strife would end; But, when this course had nothing won, No man[40] could check a course begun The governor’s will to bend. At night, the boys with torches Came trooping out for sport. They sought the house of James,[41] and took The army flags his fear forsook, And march’d them round the fort. The governor own’d his coaches, And one a coach of state. They burst his barn-door in with cries[42] And dragg’d them off before his eyes, As trophies of their hate. An image of the devil, And of the governor too[42] They made, and made them both careen, While, side by side, through Bowling Green, They wheel’d them into view. At last, of all the coaches They form’d a funeral pyre; And, full in face of all the town, Who only roar’d its roar to drown, They set the whole on fire. Then came a wake and wailing, As ashes cover’d all; And not a clause in laws unjust The man had thought on us to thrust But some one would recall. “A foe[43] is he of England!” “A foe to all of us!” “In Scotland went with Jacobites!” “Has vow’d to murder here our rights!— Ere that we toast him thus!” The colony’s council[44] pass’d then A vote opposed by none,— That England had the stamps assign’d To agents who had all resign’d, Nor was the governor one. At this the governor waver’d, And wrote a message thus: “I wait the dawn of further light.” Cried Sears then: “Keep the fox in sight! He waits till free from us. “Now send we back this answer: ‘Awhile the town will wait, But four and twenty hours from now[45] Will hold the stamps or else will vow To hold no more debate.’” The governor begg’d the army,[46] The army begg’d the fleet, To take the stamps and save the fort; But neither cared to brave the sport Of those who fill’d the street. The courage of the courtiers Had bow’d to wisdom higher: The power of right that ruled the street Had overawed the fort and fleet— They did not dare to fire. They did not dare to kindle[46] A spark that, should it flame, Would shed no glory round a throne Where prince and peer would flush alone To blush for their own shame. So nothing now was left them Except to yield us all.[47] Our mayor took the stamps, at last, And bore them off, and lock’d them fast Within the City Hall. And loud the people shouted;[48] They felt that right was done; Cried “Liberty and Property! No stamps to curse the Colony!” And parted, one by one.