Morning on the mountain border ranged in order found our forces,
Ere our scouts announced the coming of the foe;
While the hoar-frost lying near us, and the distant water-courses,
Gleamed like silver in the sunlight, seemed like silver in their glow.
Morgan ranged us there to meet them, and to greet them with such favor
That they scarce would care to follow us again;
In the rear, the Continentals—none were readier, nor braver;
In the van, with ready rifles, steady, stern, our mountain men.
Washington, our trooper peerless, gay and fearless, with his forces
Waiting panther-like upon the foe to fall,
Formed upon the slope behind us, where, on raw-boned country horses,
Sat the sudden-summoned levies brought from Georgia by McCall.
Soon we heard a distant drumming, nearer coming, slow advancing—
It was then upon the very nick of nine.
Soon upon the road from Spartanburg we saw their bayonets glancing,
And the morning sunlight playing on their swaying scarlet line.
In the distance seen so dimly, they looked grimly; coming nearer,
There was naught about them fearful, after all,
Until some one near me spoke in voice than falling water clearer,
"Tarleton's quarter is the sword-blade, Tarleton's mercy is the ball."
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 leapt the fierce, consuming flame.
But that memory had no power there in that hour there to depress me—
No! it stirred within my spirit fiercer ire;
And I gripped my sword-hilt firmer, and my arm and heart grew stronger;
And I longed to meet the wronger on the sea of steel and fire.
On they came, our might disdaining, where the raining bullets leaden
Pattered fast from scattered rifles on each wing;
Here and there went down a foeman, and the ground began to redden;
And they drew them back a moment, like the tiger ere his spring.
Then said Morgan, "Ball and powder kill much prouder men than George's;
On your rifles and a careful aim rely.
They were trained in many battles—we in workshops, fields, and forges;
But we have our homes to fight for, and we do not fear to die."