The bell that rang at Lexington
Had call’d our men to arms;
And but their wives and children now
Were home to work the farms.
But soon, like words men whisper forth
Near foes who plot their death,
From farm to farm bad news was borne
On hush’d and trembling breath.
“Fill’d full of ‘red-coats,’[1] Boston seem’d,”
They said, “a wounded prey
That yet drank in fresh draughts of blood[1]
From fleets that fill’d the bay;
“To check their march, like mushrooms grew
Our earthworks, night by night;
But, if attack’d, our men would not
Have arms with which to fight.”[2]
At Hartford our Assembly met,[3]
And heard this; nor in vain.
It sent men off to seize what fill’d
The fort on Lake Champlain.
These pass’d to Pittsfield,[4] there were join’d
By Easton, Brown, and more;
Then on to Bennington,[5] and there
Could muster full twoscore.
Too few were they to brave a fort
Well mann’d at every gun;
Yet those who slight the light of stars
But seldom see their sun.
The sun that dawn’d before them here,
And brought them help indeed,
Was Ethan Allen’s[5] blade, that flash’d
His mountain troops to lead.
And thick as rills that rift in spring
Each bond the sun destroys,
Came pouring over all those hills
His grand Green Mountain Boys.
Two hundred[6] hardy men they were
As ever mountains rear’d;
They fought with bears and frost at home,
And naught abroad they fear’d.
Erelong, a shout went ringing out;
For all had made their choice,
And all had chosen Allen chief;
And “Forward!” call’d his voice.[7]
But one who heard his order, spurr’d
His charger from the rear,
And cried: “In me your leader see,[8]
For Cambridge sent me here.”
“And Cambridge, Cambridge, what would she?”
Cried Mott[3] and Phelps, “Nay, Nay!—
’Twas Hartford sent us forth, and we
Bade Allen lead the way.”
“And we,” cried those Vermonters true,
“We came with Allen here;
And all agree that none but he
Shall lead the mountaineer.”
The other hush’d when this he heard;
And give them honor all:
They faced the traitor Arnold[8] thus,
Who thus began his fall.
Give honor due to Allen too;
High compliment it is,
That, when the traitor train’d with him,
He was no friend of his.
Three days they tramp’d, then Allen said:
“We near the lake I see.
Let some go north and some go south,
And some straight on with me.[9]
“Let those that push for north and south
Row off with all that floats,
And make for Shoreham, where we all
Will cross when come the boats.[9]
“And let the others fall in line
Behind my lantern’s glare.
Beyond, Ticonderoga waits;
At morn, we breakfast there.”
Then, down the hunter’s trail, our line
Wound on as winds a snake,
And, late at night, prepared to spring,
Lay coil’d beside the lake.
“Now off,” said Allen, “north and south,
And hail each coming oar.”
Alas, to think that Heaven above
Should favor man no more!
To north and south we scatter’d far,
We listened o’er and o’er,
But not a sound, from north or south,
The empty breezes bore.
A few there were could cross at last,—
Alas, but all too few!
Night sped, and Allen, by the fort
Could count scarce eighty-two.[10]
“My men,” he mutter’d,[11] “look—the dawn!—
Before can cross the lake
One boat again for other men,
The day in full will break.
“Yet note the wall. You know it well;
Ten times our force, if seen,
Though clad in mail, could never scale
Those cannon thick between.
“And here the boats.—What vote you all?—
Your guns lift up,—no breath.[11]
The lake cross here?—or weapons there?
Face cowardice?—or death?
“Your guns all up?[12] your hearts all true?
How well! Had one turn’d back,[13]
Yon mounts were his no longer save
To hedge and hide his track.
“He easier might have faced, at home,
When snows were all aflame,
The sun! than wives and little ones
Whose cheeks would fire with shame.
“How oft have you, when driven off
The land you once had bought,[14]
Too poor to buy again a home
For those for whom you wrought;
“How oft, when all was torn from you,[14]
And you had urged in vain
Your chartered rights, the common law,
And all that God makes plain;
“How oft then have you pray’d aloud
That Heaven would send you down
A chance from off your country’s brow
To hurl the hated crown!
“That chance has come! But once for all
Can dawn a day like this.
And those who will not use their light
Will all life’s glory miss.
“But if one win it, yonder sun
Sheds not a splendor fit
With which to rise above his name,
Or earth that welcomes it!
“Yes, earth! For they forgot, our lords,
They dealt with Puritans,
True sons of those whom Cromwell led,
Whose right means every man’s;
“Who take their individual ills
For proofs of general pain,
And, where one prince has made them wince,
Fight all, that man may reign.
“And they forgot, that mountaineers,
High rangers, like the Swiss,
Would learn to value freedom’s world
By looking down on this!
“And yet should prove it! Ay, my men,
To-day they all shall see
How freemen, forced to care for self,
Take care to keep it free.
“Now quick, but quiet; start with steel—
Nor fire till sure to hit—
First through the gate, if through we may;
If not, then over it.
“I lead. You follow. Should I fall,
Move on: my corpse may give
At least a vantage ground! Move up:
The cause, it is, must live!”
Then Allen turn’d, and Arnold[15] too,
His foremost rival still,
Then Brown and Easton,—all the line
Stole softly up the hill.[16]
A startled sentry seized his gun,
And aim’d at Allen’s face[17];
The flint miss’d fire, and Allen rush’d,
And wrench’d it from its place.
The sentry dodg’d, and darted down
A passage through the mound.[17]
In pour’d our men; you might have thought
The sentry would be drown’d.
Swift, one by one, by Allen led,
They plung’d along the gloom:
No fear of those who, just beyond,
Might make the place their tomb.
On ran the sentry; on, our men.—
Their mountains gave no game,
Nor guide so quick to apprehend
The grounds on which they came.
At last, uploom’d in dusky light,
And choking all the way,
A man who poised his bayonet[17]
To hold them all at bay.
“Take heed!” he call’d. “We take it, man,”
Hiss’d Allen, where he sped;
Whose clashing sword had glanced the gun,
And gash’d the soldier’s head.
“Have mercy!” groan’d the wounded wretch.
Said Allen: “Drop your gun.
Hist, hist, my men! The walls are ours.
Now seize the barrack—run!”
No need to bid them! In a trice
Our boys had crown’d their race;
And closed, with shouts like thousands, round
The startled sleeping-place.[18]
Meantime, “The captain!” Allen cried;
And scarce the word had said,
Ere on a door he pounded loud[19]
To rouse his foe from bed.
It open’d partly, where behold!
In robes as white as fleece,
The chief, beside his blushing bride,
A picture stood of peace.[20]
“Surrender!”[20] order’d Allen then;
“If not, by Him on high,
Your garrison—without a hope
For quarter from us—die!”
The captain’s anger now had burst
The spell of night’s repose.
“Surrender?” hiss’d he—then turn’d pale
To hear loud shouts that rose.
“And who are you?” he stammer’d out.
“And whose is this ado?
And whose the name in which you come
And bid us yield to you?”
“The name of Great Jehovah,[21] and”—
Said Allen, drawing nigh,
“The Continental Congress!”—then
He flash’d his sword on high.
“Jehovah?—Congress?” growl’d his foe;
But, cow’d by Allen’s eye,[20]
Jehovah, in the man, at least,
He did not dare defy.
The day was won; the garrison
Filed out across the green.
More generous welcome where they came,
I think were seldom seen.
Not one who bore a cumbering gun
Or lugg’d a weighty sword,
But we to ease him of his load,
Would our relief afford.
Alack, we stack’d our shoulders full,
Relieving them of care,
Then proved our good-will, Arab-like,
By taking breakfast there.
For days and days we never ceas’d
Attending to them thus,
Until, as pride escorts a bride,
We walk’d them home with us.[22]
And then the fort—ah me, to see
The trouble rare it took
To clear the space, and give the place
A less unfriendly look!
Tenscore of cannon, mounds of flint,[23]
And tons of guns and balls—
We waited weeks, to find the means
To cart them out the walls.
But first, we mail’d a message home;
And I have heard it said,
In many a place, the floor was wet
With tears when it was read.
At Cambridge, at the news, the air
With such a shout was rent,
It almost equal’d there the roar
Of guns our fort had sent.
And Allen?—Allen lived and thrived,
And conquer’d all that tract,
Where Britain could not hold a fort[24]
That once our boys attack’d.
But war has tricks; and life has turns;
Misfortunes find the true;
And Allen once, across the sea,
Was borne a prisoner too.[25]
Yet heroes’ homes are human hearts,
And England’s crowds would cling
About the form of him they felt
Was grander than their king.
He came back home, and church bells rang—
You might, in truth, have thought[25]
A second Christmas day had come,
And Saviour’s advent brought;—
And guns were fired; and, hail’d with cheers,
Vermont bade all men call
This bravest, brightest of her sons,
The General of them all.[25]
And all the people while he lived,
They loved his eagle eye[26];
And when he died—ah, friends, you know
Such spirits cannot die!
To-day, go search those mountain woods
And valleys, humbly trod
By souls whose pure, strong faith holds on
To country, home, and God;
Ask men who own those towering trees,
Or plant the hillock steep;
The school-boys, bounding back from school,
Or watching well the sheep;
The housewives, where in thrifty homes
The generous meals are spread;
The sisters, gently handing down
The Book when prayers are said;
Ask all, who value aught they own,
Whose fame all value most?—
The flashing eye and flushing cheek
Will figure him they boast.