Outward cool when combat waging, howsoever inward raging, Ne’er had Washington showed feeling when his forces fled the foe; But to-day his forehead lowered, and we shrank his wrath untoward, As on Lee his bitter speech was hurled in hissing tones and low: “Sir, what means this wild confusion? Is it cowardice or collusion? Is it treachery or fear brings you here?” [Illustration: WASHINGTON REBUKING LEE.] Lee grew crimson in his anger—rang his curses o’er the clangor, O’er the roaring din of battle, as he wrathfully replied; But his raging was unheeded; fastly on our chieftain speeded, Rallied quick the fleeing forces, stayed the dark, retreating tide; Then, on foaming steed returning, said to Lee, with wrath still burning, “Will you now strike a blow at the foe?” At the words Lee drew up proudly, curled his lip and answered loudly: “Ay!” his voice rang out, “and will not be the first to leave the field;” And his word redeeming fairly, with a skill surpassed but rarely, Struck the Briton with such ardor that the scarlet column reeled; Then, again, but in good order, past the black morass’s border, Brought his forces rent and torn, spent and worn. As we turned on flanks and centre, in the path of death to enter, One of Knox’s brass six-pounders lost its Irish cannoneer; And his wife who, ’mid the slaughter, had been bearing pails of water For the gun and for the gunner, o’er his body shed no tear. “Move the piece!”—but there they found her loading, firing that six-pounder, And she gayly, till we won, worked the gun. Loud we cheered as Captain Molly waved the rammer; then a volley Pouring in upon the grenadiers, we sternly drove them back; Though like tigers fierce they fought us, to such zeal had Molly brought us That, though struck with heat, and thirsting, yet of drink we felt no lack: There she stood amid the clamor, busily handling sponge and rammer, While we swept with wrath condign on their line. From our centre backward driven, with his forces rent and riven, Soon the foe re-formed in order, dressed again his shattered ranks; In a column firm advancing, from his bayonets hot rays glancing Showed in waving lines of brilliance as he fell upon our flanks, Charging bravely for his master: thus he met renewed disaster From the stronghold that we held back repelled. Monckton, gallant, cool, and fearless, ’mid his bravest comrades peerless, Brought his grenadiers to action but to fall amid the slain; Everywhere their ruin found them; red destruction rained around them From the mouth of Oswald’s cannon, from the musketry of Wayne; While our sturdy Continentals, in their dusty regimentals, Drove their plumed and scarlet force, man and horse.