Not all delights the bloody spear, Or horrid din of battle, There are, I’m sure, who’d like to hear A word about the cattle. The chief whom we beheld of late, Near Schralenberg haranguing, At Yan Van Poop’s unconscious sat Of Irving’s hearty banging; Whilst valiant Lee, with courage wild, Most bravely did oppose The tears of woman and of child, Who begg’d he’d leave the cows. But Wayne, of sympathizing heart, Required a relief, Not all the blessings could impart Of battle or of beef. For now a prey to female charms, His soul took more delight in A lovely hamadryad’s arms, Than cow driving or fighting. A nymph, the refugees had drove Far from her native tree, Just happen’d to be on the move, When up come Wayne and Lee. She in mad Anthony’s fierce eye The hero saw portray’d, And all in tears she took him by ——The bridle of his jade. “Hear,” said the nymph, “O great commander! No human lamentations; The trees you see them cutting yonder, Are all my near relations. “And I, forlorn! implore thine aid, To free the sacred grove; So shall thy prowess be repaid With an immortal’s love.” Now some, to prove she was a goddess; Said this enchanting fair Had late retired from the _bodies_,[15] In all the pomp of war; That drums and merry fifes had play’d To honor her retreat, And Cunningham himself convey’d The lady through the street. Great Wayne, by soft compassion sway’d, To no inquiry stoops. But takes the fair afflicted maid _Right_ into Yan Van Poop’s. So Roman Anthony, they say, Disgraced the imperial banner, And for a gypsy lost a day, Like Anthony the tanner. The hamadryad had but half Received address from Wayne, When drums and colors, cow and calf, Came down the road amain. All in a cloud of dust were seen, The sheep, the horse, the goat, The gentle heifer, ass obscene, The yearling and the shoat. And pack-horses with fowls came by, Befeathered on each side, Like Pegasus, the horse that I And other poets ride. Sublime upon his stirrups rose The mighty Lee behind, And drove the terror-smitten cows Like chaff before the wind. But sudden see the woods above Pour down another corps, All helter skelter in a drove, Like that I sung before. Irving and terror in the van, Came flying all abroad, And canon, colors, horse and man Ran tumbling to the road. Still as he fled, ’twas Irving’s cry, And his example too, “Run on, my merry men—For why? [16]The shot will not go thro’.” As when two kennels in the street, Swell’d with a recent rain, In gushing streams together meet, And seek the neighboring drain,