The war-whoop is still, and the savage's yell
Has sunk into silence along the wild dell;
The din of the battle, the tumult, is o'er,
And the war-clarion's voice is now heard no more.
The warriors that fought for their country, and bled,
Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed;
No stone tells the place where their ashes repose,
Nor points out the spot from the graves of their foes.
They died in their glory, surrounded by fame,
And Victory's loud trump their death did proclaim;
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast,
And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The English gained a notable victory in the summer of 1745 when they captured the formidable fortress of Louisburg, which had been built by the French on the eastern coast of Cape Breton Island. News of the victory created the greatest joy throughout the colonies.
LOUISBURG
[June 17, 1745]
Neptune and Mars in Council sate
To humble France's pride,
Whose vain unbridled insolence
All other Powers defied.
The gods having sat in deep debate
Upon the puzzling theme,
Broke up perplexed and both agreed
Shirley should form the scheme.
Shirley, with Britain's glory fired,
Heaven's favoring smile implored:
"Let Louisburg return,"—he said,
"Unto its ancient Lord."