Yet, when charged on by their forces, disappearing, none knew whither;
Buzzed around the hornets ever, newer swarms each moment springing,
Breaking, rising, and returning, yet continually stinging.
HALT OF TROOPS NEAR ELISHA JONES’S HOUSE.
When to Hardy’s Hill their weary, waxing-fainter footsteps brought them,
There again the stout Provincials brought the wolves to bay and fought them;
And though often backward beaten, still returned the foe to follow,
Making forts of every hill-top, and redoubts of every hollow.
Hunters came from every farm-house, joining eagerly to chase them—