Then tell me not of heroes fled—
Crime renders foul their boasted fame!
While widowed ones and orphans bled,
They earned the phantom of a name.
The sons of our New England sires,
Armed with endurance, dared to roam
Far from the hospitable fires,
And the green, hallowed bowers of home.
Distemper, leagued with famine wan,
Nerved to a high resolve, they bore;