Attend at the call of the fifer and drummer, The French and the rebels are coming next summer, And the forts we must build Though the Tories are killed. Take courage, my jockies, and work for your King, For if you are taken, no doubt you will swing. If York we can hold, I'll have you enroll'd; And after you're dead, your names shall be read, As who for their monarch both labor'd and bled, And ventur'd their necks for their beef and their bread. 'Tis an hour to serve the bravest of nations, And be left to be hanged in their capitulations. Then scour up your mortars, And stand to your quarters, 'Tis nonsense for Tories in battle to run, They never need fear sword, halberd, or gun; Their hearts should not fail 'em, No balls will assail 'em, Forget your disgraces, and shorten your faces, For 'tis true as the gospel, believe it or not, Who are born to be hang'd, will never be shot. PHILIP FRENEAU. On the last day of May, Clinton had succeeded in capturing the fortress at Stony Point, on the Hudson, had thrown a garrison of six hundred men into it, and added two lines of fortifications, rendering it almost impregnable. Washington, nevertheless, determined to recapture it, and intrusted the task to General Anthony Wayne, giving him twelve hundred men for the purpose. At midnight of July 15, the Americans crossed the swamp which divided the fort from the mainland, reached the outworks before they were discovered, and carried the fort by storm. THE STORMING OF STONY POINT [July 16, 1779] Highlands of Hudson! ye saw them pass, Night on the stars of their battle-flag, Threading the maze of the dark morass Under the frown of the Thunder Crag; Flower and pride of the Light Armed Corps, Trim in their trappings of buff and blue, Silent, they skirted the rugged shore, Grim in the promise of work to do. "Cross ye the ford to the moated rock! Let not a whisper your march betray! Out with the flint from the musket lock! Now! let the bayonet find the way!" "Halt!" rang the sentinel's challenge clear. Swift came the shot of the waking foe. Bright flashed the axe of the Pioneer Smashing the abatis, blow on blow. Little they tarried for British might! Lightly they recked of the Tory jeers! Laughing, they swarmed to the craggy height, Steel to the steel of the Grenadiers! Storm King and Dunderberg! wake once more Sentinel giants of Freedom's throne, Massive and proud! to the Eastern shore Bellow the watchword: "The fort's our own!" Echo our cheers for the Men of old! Shout for the Hero who led his band Braving the death that his heart foretold Over the parapet, "spear in hand!" ARTHUR GUITERMAN. WAYNE AT STONY POINT [July 16, 1779]