[He indicates a couch.
Mishe-mo-qua. No. Woman, she
Come far, to tell white chief great words.
Fitzgibbon. I thank her much.
Mrs. Secord. I came to say that General Dearborn tires.
Of his inaction, and the narrow space
Around his works, he therefore purposes
[!-- Begin Page 58 --] To fall upon your outpost here, to-night,
With an o'erwhelming force, and take your stores:
Fitzgibbon. Madam!
Mrs. Secord. Five hundred men, with some dragoons and guns,
Start e'en to-night, soon as the moon goes down;
Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler in command.
A train of waggons, too, is sent for spoil.
Fitzgibbon. And may I ask on what authority
To trust such startling news? I know you not.
Mrs. Secord. My name is Secord, I'm Captain Secord's wife,
Who fought at Queenston Heights, and there received
The wounds that leave him now a helpless cripple.
Some here may know him.
Fitzgibbon. I remember now.
Mrs. Secord. We live within the Yankee lines, and hence
By victor's right our home is free to them.
Last night a sergeant and his new-changed guard
Came in and asked for supper; a boy and girl
I left to wait on them, seeing the table set
With all supplies myself, and then retired.
But such their confidence; their talk so loud
And free, I could not help but hear some words
That raised suspicion; then I listened close
And heard, 'mid gibe and jest, the enterprise
That was to flout us; make the Loyalist
A cringing slave to sneering rebels; make
The British lion gnash his teeth with rage;—
The Yankee, hand-on-hip, guffawing loud
The while. At once, my British blood was up,
Nor had I borne their hated presence more,
But for the deeper cause. My husband judged
As I did, but his helpless frame forbade
His active interference, so I came,
For well we knew your risk, warning denied.