"Old Nat",[B] the little cur on wheels,
Protector of our sister city,
Was kept to bite the British heels,
A yelping terror, bold and gritty.
That savage beast, the old "Crown Prince",[C]
A British bull-dog, glum, thick-set,
At Springfield's fight was made to wince,
And now we keep him for a pet.
Upon this grassy knoll they stand,
A venerable, peaceful pack;
Their throats once tuned to music grand,
And stained with gore their muzzles black.
But come, that portal swinging free,
A welcome offers, as of yore,
When, sheltered 'neath this old roof-tree,
Our patriot-chieftain trod this floor.
And with him in that trying day
Was gathered here a glorious band;
This house received more chiefs, they say,
Than any other in our land.[D]
Hither magnanimous Schuyler came,
And stern Steuben from o'er the water;
Here Hamilton, of brilliant fame,
Once met and courted Schuyler's daughter.
And Knox, who leads the gunner-tribes,
Whose shot the trembling foeman riddles,
A roaring chief,[E] his cash subscribes
To pay the mirth-inspiring fiddles.[F]
The "fighting Quaker", General Greene,
Helped Knox to foot the fiddlers' bill;
And here the intrepid "Put." was seen,
And Arnold—black his memory still.
And Kosciusko, scorning fear,
Beside him noble Lafayette;
And gallant "Light Horse Harry" here
His kindly chief for counsel met.
"Mad Antony" was here a guest,—
Madly he charged, but shrewdly planned;
And many another in whose breast
Was faithful counsel for our land.