This is a pretty just account Of Burgoyne’s legions’ whole amount, Who came across the Northern Lakes To desolate our happy States. Their brass cannons we have got all— Fifty-six—both great and small; And ten thousand stand of arms, To prevent all future harms; Stores and implements complete, Of workmanship exceeding neat; Covered wagons in great plenty, And proper harness, no way scanty. Among our prisoners there are Six generals, of fame most rare; Six members of their Parliament— Reluctantly they seem content; Three British lords, and Lord Belcarras, Who came, our country free to harass. Two baronets, of high extraction, Were sorely wounded in the action. [A] Col. John Brown, of Mass. [B] Gen. Herkimer, of N. York, (probably.) * * * * * The Massacre of Wyoming was minutely described in several ballads written before the year 1785, which, we were surprised to find, are unnoticed by Mr. Stone and the other historians of that celebrated valley. They will probably be preserved in Mr. Miner’s forthcoming “Annals.” We quote a few stanzas from the longest one in our possession. Now as they fly, they _quarters_ cry, Oh hear, indulgent Heaven! How hard to state their dreadful fate, No quarters must be given! Some men were found, a-flying round, Sagacious to get clear; In vain they fly, the foe is nigh, On flank, in front, and rear! The enemy did win the day, Methinks their words were these: “You cursed rebel Yankee race, _Will this your Congress please_?” The death of Andre—just and necessary as it unquestionably was—has been lamented in a hundred songs; while the chivalrous and accomplished Hale, murdered with a brutality that would have shocked the sensibilities of the most depraved and desperate brigands, is alluded to in but a single ballad among those which have been preserved until our own time. We transcribe, from the oldest copy in our possession, the once popular lyric called BRAVE PAWLING AND THE SPY. Come, all you brave Americans, and unto me give ear, And I’ll sing you a ditty that will your spirits cheer, Concerning a young gentleman whose age was twenty-two; He fought for North America; his heart was just and true. They took him from his dwelling, and they did him confine, They cast him into prison, and kept him there a time; But he with resolution resolved not long to stay; He set himself at liberty, and soon he ran away. He with a scouting-party went down to Tarrytown, Where he met a British officer, a man of high renown; Who says unto these gentlemen, “You’re of the British cheer, I trust that you can tell me if there’s any danger near?”