Then the memory came unto me, heavy, gloomy, of my brother
Who was slain while asking quarter at their hand;
Of that morning when was driven forth my sister and my mother,
From our cabin in the valley by the spoilers of the land.
I remembered of my brother slain, my mother spurned and beaten,
Of my sister in her beauty brought to shame;
Of the wretches’ jeers and laughter, as from mud-sill up to rafter
Of the stripped and plundered cabin leaped the fierce, consuming flame.
WILLIAM WASHINGTON.