The morning came--there stood the foe, Stark eyed them as they stood-- Few words he spake--'twas not a time For moralizing mood. "See there the enemy, my boys! Now strong in valor's might, Beat them, or Molly Stark will sleep In widowhood to-night." Each soldier there had left at home A sweetheart, wife, or mother, A blooming sister, or, perchance, A fair-hair'd, blue-eyed brother. Each from a fireside came, and thoughts Those simple words awoke That nerved up every warrior's arm And guided every stroke. Fireside and woman--mighty words! How wondrous is the spell They work upon the manly heart, Who knoweth not full well? And then the women of this land, That never land hath known A truer, prouder hearted race, Each Yankee boy must own. Brief eloquence was Stark's--nor vain-- Scarce utter'd he the words, When burst the musket's rattling peal Out-leap'd the flashing swords; And when brave Stark in after time Told the proud tale of wonder, He said the battle din was one "Continual clap of thunder." Two hours they strove--then victory crown'd The gallant Yankee boys. Nought but the memory of the dead Bedimm'd their glorious joys; Ay--there's the rub--the hour of strife, Though follow years of fame, Is still in mournful memory link'd With some death-hallow'd name. The cypress with the laurel twines-- The pæan sounds a knell, The trophied column marks the spot Where friends and brothers fell. Fame's mantle a funereal pall Seems to the grief-dimm'd eye, For ever where the bravest fall The best beloved die. THOMAS P. RODMAN. Just at this moment, when the Americans, thinking the battle over, began to scatter to the plunder of the German camp, a relieving force of five hundred men, sent by Burgoyne, came upon the scene. Luckily, Seth Warner also arrived with fresh men at this juncture, charged furiously upon the British, and by nightfall had killed or captured the entire column, with the exception of six men, who succeeded in reaching the British camp. BENNINGTON [August 16, 1777] A cycle was closed and rounded, A continent lost and won, When Stark and his men went over The earthworks at Bennington. Slowly down from the northward, Billowing fold on fold, Whelming the land and crushing, The glimmering glacier rolled. Down from the broad St. Lawrence, Bright with its thousand isles, Through the Canadian woodlands, Sweet with the summer smiles, On over field and fastness, Village and vantage coigne, Rolled the resistless legions Led by the bold Burgoyne. Roared the craggy ledges Looming o'er Lake Champlain; Red with the blaze of navies Quivered the land-locked main; Soared the Vancour eagle, Screaming, across the sun; Deep dived the loon in terror Under Lake Horicon.