II.
That was a brave old governor
Who gathered his array,
And stood to meet, he knew not what
On that alarming day.
Eight hundred, amid rumors vast
That filled the wild wood's gloom,
With all New England's flower of youth,
Fierce for New France's doom.
III.
And the brave old half five hundred!
Their's should in truth be fame;
Borne down the savage Richelieu,
On what emprise they came!
Your hearts are great enough, O few:
Only your numbers fail,
New France asks more for conquerors
All glorious though your tale.
IV.
It was a brave old battle
That surged around the fort,
When D'Hosta fell in charging,
And 'twas deadly strife and short;
When in the very quarters
They contested face and hand,
And many a goodly fellow
Crimsoned yon La Prairie sand.
V.
And those were brave old orders
The colonel gave to meet
That forest force with trees entrenched
Opposing the retreat:
"DeCalliere's strength's behind us
And in front your Richelieu;
We must go straightforth at them;
There is nothing else to do."
VI.
And then the brave old story comes,
Of Schuyler and Valrennes
When "Fight," the British colonel called,
Encouraging his men,
"For the Protestant Religion
And the honor of our King!"—
"Sir, I am here to answer you!"
Valrennes cried, forthstepping.