IV.
One hour from midnight and the sleep
That wrapped the stalwart frame so deep,
Was woke by guard and sign;
The forest sounded with the tramp
Of rushing steeds, until the camp
Was reached by foremost line
Of the brigade of fearless men,
Who rode through wood, and brake, and fen,
As speeds the red deer to his glen.
No gorgeous suit of war array,
No uniform of red or gray
In that rude band were seen;
The ploughman's dress, but coarse and plain,
And marred by toil with many a stain,
Betrayed no gilded sheen;
Their only badge the white cockade,
No dagger's point or glittering blade
Was worn with martial pride,
But sabre hilt and rifle true,
Oftimes of dark, ensanguined hue,
Were ever at the side.
They hailed their comrades in the fight,
With blazing fires illumed the night,
And waged with jest and smile,
As toward the lurid torches' light
Rode up their chief the while.
No pert gallant or Conrad he,
With gay plume waving haughtily;
Nor donned he aught his troopers o'er,
Save that the leathern cap he wore
In front a silver crescent bore,
Inscribed with "Death or Liberty."
Of stature low, the piercing eye,
And forehead broad, and full, and high,
And lined with lofty thought;
Were all that marked from his compeers,
The man who through long, gloomy years
With tireless vigor wrought,
Nerved by defeat for loftier aim,
To build his country's Hope and Fame,
And win for her a seat divine
Beneath bright Freedom's hallowed shrine;
And few, though rashly brave, would dare,
To start the Swamp Fox[2] from his lair.
Or in his fastness wild and dun,
Cope with the rebel Marion.
V.
Soon Huon by the river's tide
Sought out his brave commander's side,
And listened with respectful air,
To learn what new emprise to share,
What lurking foe to shun or brave.
Short was their conference and grave,
Ere Huon bade a trooper call
His page, young Lennard, to his aid;
And passing 'neath the cedar tall,
And giant oaks' far spreading shade,
The boy with graceful step and light,
Stood quickly in his captain's sight,
And Marion thus, in kindly tone,
Spoke with a frankness all his own.
"'T is said, my boy, thy heart is brave,
Thy courage sure, and caution grave;
This night, then, we will task thy power.
Seek, ere the closing of the hour,
The village inn that stands below,
Embowered within the coppice glade,
And learn the bearings of the foe—
Their force in camp, and field, and shade;
But ere the silver moon again
O'er Carolina's hills shall wane,
Meet us beside the deep lagoon
Beyond, that knows no scorching noon."
VI.
Anon, far down the silent wood,
Undaunted by its solitude,
Sped Lennard on his way;
Until beneath a blasted pine,
Beyond the forest gray,
That tall, and bald, and hoary white,
Gleamed through the dusky veil of night,
As through Life's mist on human sight
Gleams vital truth divine,
He paused, and from a whistle clear,
Drew notes that thrilled the valley near.
VII.
Within the rebel camp, meanwhile,
No slumbers winning smiles beguile,
From care to dreams away;
The troop who view with fearless heart
The coming strife and battle's mart;
And thus with blithesome song, though rude,
Awake the echoes of the wood:
Though dark the night,
And fierce the fight,
We fear no living foe;
The swamp our home,
The sky our dome,
Our bed the turf below;
We hail the strife,
And prize not life,
Unblessed by Freedom's smile;