“You know not what you seek,” he cried; “Those are but fools who foes deride; And prudence dwells with courage tried. “My messenger left at set of sun; When once his errand has been done, Will sound Fort Schuyler’s signal-gun. “Wait till that cannon’s voice you hear, And then we’ll fall upon their rear, As Gansevoort to their van draws near.” Said Colonel Paris, then, “Not so! We left our homes to strike a blow; So lead us quickly to the foe. “Else all may see those do not err Who brand you as a coward cur And skulking Tory, Herkimer.” But Herkimer only smiled at first— He knew those merely words at worst That from hot-headed rashness burst. “I have been placed your path to guide, And shall I lead you, then,” he cried, “To the jaws of ruin gaping wide?” But Cox replied, “This talk is vain; If Herkimer fears he may be slain, Let him in safety here remain.” Flashed Herkimer’s eyes with fire at this, And sank his voice to an angry hiss— “Such shafts,” he cried, “my honor miss. “March on! but if I judge aright, You’ll find, when comes our foe in sight, The loudest boaster first in flight.” And so they were marching through a glen Not far from the mouth of Oriskany, when I overtook their hindmost men. I saw Dirck Bergen’s honest face Among the rest; he had reached the place An hour before me in the race. He wrung my hand and told me all— “Look out,” said he, “for a rain of ball And the thickest shower that well can fall. “For Brant is watching round about, And long ere this, by many a scout, He knows his foes are armed and out. “We’ll have it heavily, by-and-by; But that’s no matter—one can but die, And safer it is to fight than fly.” I laughed a little my fear to hide; But I felt my memory backward glide To the home I left on the river-side. I saw that cabin of logs once more, The ceiling low and the sanded floor, And my wife the cradle leaning o’er. I saw her bending with girlish grace, And I knew the mother was trying to trace The father’s look in the infant’s face. The house-dog pricked his watchful ear— He heard some traveller passing near— She listened my coming step to hear. But soon dispersed that pleasant scene, And I glanced with vision clear and keen Through the close-set boughs of the forest green. A deep ravine was in our way, Marshy and damp, and o’er it lay A causeway formed of logs and clay. The spot was pleasant—stilly down Fell forest shadows, cool and brown, From branch and bough and lofty crown. Fringing the foreground of the scene, I saw the slender birches lean Lovingly o’er the tussocks green. The leaves were thickly set o’erhead, The low-growth dense around was spread— But suddenly filled my heart with dread.