Did the brave old _Pater Patrioe_ Wear that spur like a belted knight-- Wear it through gain and disaster, From Cambridge to Monmouth flight? Did it press his steed in hot anger On Long Island's day of pain? Did it drive him, at terrible Princeton, 'Tween two storms of leaden rain? And here--did the buckle loosen, And no eye look down to see, When he rode to blast with the lightning The shrinking eyes of Lee? Did it fall, unfelt and unheeded, When that fight of despair was won, And Clinton, worn and discouraged, Crept away at the set of sun? The lips have long been silent That could send an answer back; And the spur, all broken and rusted, Has forgotten its rider's track! I only know that the pulses Leap hot, and the senses reel, When I think that the Spur of Monmouth May have clasped George Washington's heel! And if it be so, O Heaven, That the nation's destiny holds, And that maps the good and the evil In the future's bewildering folds, Send forth some man of the people, Unspotted in heart and hand, On his foot to buckle the relic, And charge for a periled land! There is fire in our fathers' ashes; There is life in the blood they shed; And not a hair unheeded Shall fall from the nation's head. Old bones of the saints and the martyrs Spring up at the church's call:-- God grant that the Spur of Monmouth Prove the mightiest relic of all! * * * * * THE FATAL MARRIAGE OF BILL THE SOUNDSER.