Early in July, 1778, the Indians struck a blow at which the whole country stood aghast. The valley of Wyoming, in northeastern Pennsylvania, had, by its fertility, attracted many settlers. The position of the settlement was peculiarly exposed, and yet it had sent the best part of its militia to serve with Washington. This circumstance did not escape the eyes of the enemy, and on July 3, 1778, a force of twelve hundred Indians and Tories fell upon the settlement, routed the garrison, tortured the prisoners to death, and plundered and burned the houses. The settlers fled to the woods, where nearly a hundred women and children perished of fatigue and starvation.
[July 3, 1778]
Kind Heaven, assist the trembling muse,
While she attempts to tell
Of poor Wyoming's overthrow
By savage sons of hell.
One hundred whites, in painted hue,
Whom Butler there did lead,
Supported by a barb'rous crew
Of the fierce savage breed.
The last of June the siege began,
And several days it held,
While many a brave and valiant man
Lay slaughtered on the field.
Our troops marched out from Forty Fort
The third day of July,
Three hundred strong, they marched along,
The fate of war to try.
But oh! alas! three hundred men
Is much too small a band
To meet eight hundred men complete,
And make a glorious stand.
Four miles they marchèd from the Fort
Their enemy to meet,
Too far indeed did Butler lead,
To keep a safe retreat.
And now the fatal hour is come—
They bravely charge the foe,
And they, with ire, returned the fire,
Which prov'd our overthrow.