His daring words, from all the crowd,
Such great applause did gain,
That every man declar'd aloud
For serious work with Wayne.
Then from the cask of rum once more,
They took a heady gill;
When one and all, they loudly swore,
They'd fight upon the hill.
But here—the Muse hath not a strain
Befitting such great deeds;
Huzza! they cried, huzza! for Wayne,
And shouting,—did their needs.
CANTO II
Near his meridian pomp, the sun
Had journey'd from th' horizon;
When fierce the dusky tribe mov'd on,
Of heroes drunk as pison.
The sounds confus'd of boasting oaths,
Reëchoed through the wood;
Some vow'd to sleep in dead men's clothes,
And some to swim in blood.
At Irving's nod 'twas fine to see
The left prepare to fight;
The while, the drovers, Wayne and Lee,
Drew off upon the right.
Which Irving 'twas, fame don't relate,
Nor can the Muse assist her;
Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat,
Or he that gives a clyster.
For greatly one was signaliz'd,
That fought on Chestnut Hill;
And Canada immortaliz'd
The vender of the pill.
Yet their attendance upon Proctor,
They both might have to boast of;
For there was business for the doctor,
And hats to be disposed of.
Let none uncandidly infer,
That Stirling wanted spunk;
The self-made peer had sure been there,
But that the peer was drunk.