Since this is the case, we must e'en make the best
Of a game that is lost; let us turn it to jest,
We'll smile, nay, we'll laugh, we'll carouse and we'll
sing,

And cheerfully drink life and health to the King.
Derry down, &c.

Let Washington now from his mountains descend, Who knows but in George he may still find a friend.

A Briton, although he loves bottle and wench,
Is an honester fellow than parlez vous French.
Derry down, &c.

Our great Independence we give to the wind,

And pray that Great Britain may once more be kind,

In this jovial song all hostility ends,

And Britons and we will for ever be friends.
Derry down, &c.

Boy, fill me a bumper, now join in the chorus,
There's happiness still in the prospect before us;
In this sparkling glass all hostility ends,
And Britons and we will for ever be friends.
Derry down, &c.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold,
The great cajolers are themselves cajol'd:
What, now, is left of continental brags,
Taxes unpaid, though payable in rags.
What now remains of continental force?
Battalions mouldering, waste without resource.
What rests there yet of continental sway?
A ruin'd people ripe to disobey;
Hate now of men, and soon to be the jest,
Such is your state, ye monsters of the west,
Yet must on every face a smile be worn,
Whilst every breast with agony is torn,
Hopeless yourselves, yet hope you must impart,
And comfort others with an aching heart.
Ill fated they, who, lost at home, must boast
Of help expected from a foreign coast,
How wretched is their lot to France and Spain,
Who look for succour, but who look in vain.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold,
The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd.
Courage, my boys, dismiss your chilling fears,
Attend to me, I'll put you in your gears,
Come, I'll instruct you how to advertise
Your missing friends, your hide-and-seek allics.
O YES! if any man alive will bring
News of the squadron of the Christian King,
If any man will find out Count d'Estaing,
With whose scrub actions both the Indies rang;
If any man will ascertain on oath,

What is become of Monsieur de la Mothe;

Whoever these important points explains,
Congress will nobly pay him for his pains,
Of pewter dollars what both hands can hold,
A thimblefull of plate, a mite of gold;
The lands of some big Tory, he shall get,
And strut a famous Col'nel en brevet,
And last, to honour him (we scorn to bribe),
We'll make him chief of the Oneida tribe.

This was followed on the 27th of the same month by

THE SIEGE OF SAVANNAH.

Come let us rejoice,

With heart and with voice

Her triumphs let loyalty show, sir,
While bumpers go round
Re-echo the sound,

Huzza, for the King and Prevost, sir.

With warlike parade,

And his Irish brigade,

His ships and his spruce Gallic host, sir,
As proud as an elf,

D'Estaing came himself,

And landed on Georgia's coast, sir.

There joining a band,

Under Lincoln's command,

Of rebels and traitors and Whigs, sir, 'Gainst the town of Savannah,

He planted his banner,

And then he felt wonderous big, sir.

With thund'ring of guns,

And bursting of bombs,

He thought to have frighted our Boys, sir,
But amidst all their din,

Brave Maitland push'd in,

And Moncrieff cry'd, "a fig for your noise, sır

Scarce three thousand men, The town did maintain,

'Gainst three times their number of foes, sir, Who left on the plain,

Of wounded and slain,

Three thousand to fatten the crows, sir.

Three thousand? No less!

For the rebels confess

Some loss, as you very well know, sir,
Then let bumpers go round,
And re-echo the sound,
Huzza for the King and Prevost, sir.
Rivington's Gazette, Nov. 27, 1779.

A poem on Washington, dated in 1779, merits

insertion here.

Let venal poets praise a King
For virtues unpossess'd,

A volunteer, unbrib'd I sing
The Hero of the West.

When Gaul came on with rapid stride,
And vict'ry was the word,

First shone his country's future pride,
And flesh'd his maiden sword.

With conquest crown'd, from war's alarms,
To study bent his mind ;-
"Equal to both, to arts or arms
Indiff'rently inclin'd."

Elate with fancied pow'r and pride,
Impell'd by angry Jove;
Nor fates nor justice on their side,
The British legions move.

With them a tribe of foreign slaves
A mercenary band,

For plunder bold, inur'd to blood,
Invade his native land.

His country calls, to arms he flies,
Nor fears a tyrant's frown;
Leads heroes, favour'd by the skies,
To glory and renown.

In vain the British tyrant storms,
His thunders fright no more,-
His hardy vet'raus, vainly brave,
Shall fly the happy shore.

The willing Chiefs around him throng,
Impatient of delay;

Their noble ardour he restrains,

And points the surer way.

Pursue, Great Chief, the glorious race-
Thy country's sword and shield ;—
Thrice happy! bo alike to grace
The senate ad te field.

New Hampshire Gazette, Oct. 12, 1779.

We now come to one of the most famous pieces of verse composed during the war. It owes its reputation, however, more to the untimely death of its author than to its own merits. Having already given, in our extract from Hamilton, the best account of the most memorable portion of André's life, we present without further preface

THE COW-CHASE.

CANTO L

To drive the kine one summer's morn, The Tanner took his way,

The calf shall rue that is unborn

The jumbling of that day.

* General Wayne's legal occupation.

And Wayne descending steers shall know
And tauntingly deride,
And call to mind in ev'ry low

The tanning of his hide.

Yet Bergen cows still ruminate
Unconscious in the stall,

What mighty means were used to get
And loose them after all.

For many heroes bold and brave
From New-Bridge and Tapaan,*
And those that drink Passaick's wave,
And those that eat Soupaun.

And sons of distant Delaware
And still remoter Shannon,
And Major Lee with horses rare
And Proctor with his cannon.

All wondrous proud in arms they came,
What hero could refuse,

To tread the rugged path to fame,
Who had a pair of shoes?

At six the Host with sweating buff,
Arrived at Freedom's pole,

When Wayne who thought he'd time enough, Thus speechified the whole.

O ye whom glory doth unite

Who Freedon's cause espouse,

Whether the wing that's doomed to fight
Or that to drive the cows.

Ere yet you tempt your further way
Or into action come,

Hear, soldiers, what I have to say,
And take a pint of rum.

Intemp'rate valor then will string,

Each nervous arm the better,
So all the land shall 10 sing
And read the gen'ral's letter.
Know that some paltry Refugees,
Whom I've a mind to fright,
Are playing h-1 amongst the trees
That grow on yonder height.

Their Fort and block-houses we'll level,
And deal a horrid slaughter,

We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil,
And ravish wife and daughter.

I under cover of th' attack,

Whilst you are all at blows,

From English Neighb'rhood and Tinack*
Will drive away the cows.

For well

you

know the latter is

The serious operation,
And fighting with the Refugees
Is only recreation.

His daring words from all the crowd,
Such great applause did gain,
That every man declared aloud

For serious work with Wayne.
Then from the cask of rutn once more
They took a heady gill,
When one and all they loudly swore,
They'd fight upon the hill.

But here-the Muse has not a strain Befitting such great deeds,

Huzza, they cried, huzza for Wayne, And shouting-did their needs.

Villages in New Jersey.

CANTO II.

Near his meridian pomp, the sun
Had journey'd from the hor'zon,
When fierce the dusky tribe mov'd on,
Of heroes drunk as poison.

The sounds confused of boasting oaths,
Re-echoed thro' the wood,

Some vow'd to sleep in dead men's clothes
And some to swiin 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 glister.

For greatly one was signalized,
That fought at Chesnut-Hill,
And Canada immortalized,

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 uneandidly infer,

That Stirling wanted spunk,

The self-made peer had sure been there,
But that the peer was drunk.
But turn we to the Hudson's banks,
Where stood the modest train,
With purpose firm tho' slender ranks,
Nor car'd a pin for Wayne.
For them the unrelenting hand
Of rebel fury drove
And tore from ev'ry genial band,
Of friendship and of love.

And some within a dungeon's gloom,
By mock tribunals laid,
Had waited long a cruel doom,
Impending o'er their head.
Here one bewails a brother's fate
There one a sire demands,
Cut off, alas! before their date,
By ignominious hands.

And silver'd grandsires here appear'd
In deep distress serene,

Of reverend manners that declared,
The better days they'd seen.

Oh cursed rebellion these are thine,
Thine all these tales of wo,
Shall at thy die insatiate shrine
Blood never cease to flow?
And now the foe began to lead
His forces to th' attack:
Balls whistling unto balls succeed,

And make the block-house crack.
No shot could pass, if you will take
The Gen'ral's word for true;

But 'tis a d-ble mistake,
For ev'ry shot went thro'.

The firmer as the rebels pressed,

The loyal heroes stand;

Virtue had nerv'd each honest breast,

And industry each hand.

In valour's phrensy, Hamilton
Rode like a soldier big,

* Vide Lee's Trial.

And Secretary Harrison,

With pen stuck in his wig.
But lest their Chieftain Washington,
Should mourn them in the mumps,*
The fate of Withrington to shun,
They fought behind the stumps.
But ah, Thaddeus Posset, why
Should thy poor soul elope?
And why should Titus Hooper die,
Ah die-without a rope?
Apostate Murphy, thou to whom
Fair Shela ne'er was cruel;

In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom,
Ouch wou'd ye die my Jewel?

Thee Nathan Pumpkin, I lament,
Of melancholy fate,

The gray goose stolen as he went,
In his heart's blood was wet.

Now as the fight was further fought,
And balls began to thicken,

The fray assum'd, the Gen'rals thought,
The colour of a licking.

Yet undismay'd the chiefs command,
And to redeem the day,

Cry, SOLDIERS CHARGE! they hear, they stand,
They turn and run away.

CANTO III.

Not all delights the bloody spear,

Or horrid din of battle,

There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear,

A word about the cattle.

The chief whom we beheld of late,
Near Schralenberg haranguig,
At Yan Van Poop's, unconscious sat
Of Irving's hearty bai ging.
Whilst valiant Lee, with courage wild,
Most bravely did oppose

The tears of woman and of child,

Who begg'd he'd leave the cows.
But Wayne, of sympathizing heart,
Required a relief,

Not all the blessings could impart
Of battle or of beef.

For now a prey to female charms,
His soul took more delight in
A lovely hamadryad's‡ arms,

Than driving cows or fighting:
A nymph, the Refugees had drove
Far from her native tree,
Just happen'd to be on the move,
When up came Wayne and Lee.
She in mad Anthony's fierce eye
The hero saw portray'd,

And all in tears she took him by
The bridle of his jade.g

Hear, said the nymph, O great commander!
No human lamentations;

The trees you see them cutting yonder,
Are all my near relations.

And I, forlorn! implore thine aid,
To free the sacred grove:

So shall thy prowess be repaid

With an immortal's love.

Now some, to prove she was a goddess!
Said this enchanting fair

Had late retired from the Bodies,*

In all the pomp of war.

That drums and merry fifes had play'd
To honour her retreat,

And Cunninghamt himself convey'd
The lady thro' the street.

Great Wayne, by soft compassion sway'd,
To no inquiry stoops,

But takes the fair afflicted maid
Right into Yan Van Poop's.
So Roman Anthony, they say,
Disgraced th' imperial banner,
And for a gipsy lost a day,
Like Anthony the tanner.
The hamadryad had but half

Received redress from Wayne,

When drums and colours, cow and calf,
Came down the road amain.

All in a cloud of dust were seen
The sheep, the horse, the goat,
The gentle heifer, ass obscene,
The yearling and the shoat

And pack-horses with fowls came by,
Befeathered on each side,
Like Pegasus, the horse that I
And other poets ride.

Sublime upon his stirrups rose
The mighty Lee behind,

And drove the terrour-smitten cows,
Like chaff before the wind.

But sudden see the woods above

Pour down another corps, All helter skelter in a drove, Like that I sung before.

Irving and terrour in the van,

Came flying all abroad,

And cannon, colours, horse, and man,
Ran tumbling to the road.

Still as he fled, 'twas Irving's cry,
And his example too,

"Run on, my merry men all-for why?"

The shot will not go thro'.

As when two kennels in the street,
Swell'd with a recent rain,

In gushing streams together meet,

And seek the neighbouring drain.

So met these dung-born tribes in one,
As swift in their career,

And so to Newbridge they ran on—
But all the cows got clear.

Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder,

Saw the returning train,

And mourn'd to Wayne the lack of plunder,
For them to steal again.

For 'twas his right to seize the spoil, and
To share with each commander,
As he had done at Staten Island
With frost-bit Alexander.§

A cant appellation given among the soldiery to the corps that have the honour to guard his majesty's person.

+ Provost-Marshal of New York, who attended the drum

ming of her out of the regiment and city.

Five Refugees ('tis true) were found

Stiff on the block-house floor,

But then 'tis thought the shot went round,
And in at the back-door.

Earl of Stirling.

In his dismay the frantic priest*
Began to grow prophetic,

You'd swore, to see his lab'ring breast,
He'd taken an emetic.

I view a future day, said he,
Brighter than this day dark is,
And you shall see what you shall see
Ha! ha! one pretty Marquis;†

And he shall come to Paulus-Hook,

And great achievements think on,
And make a bow and take a look,
Like Satan over Lincoln.
And all the land around shall glory
To see the Frenchmen caper,
And pretty Susan tell the story
In the next Chatham paper.

This solemn prophecy, of course,
Gave all much consolation,
Except to Wayne, who lost his horse
Upon the great occasion.

His horse that carried all his prog,

His military speeches,

His corn-stalk whiskey for his grog,

Blue stockings and brown breeches.
And now I've closed my epic strain,
I tremble as I show it,

Lest this same warrior-drover, Wayne,
Should ever catch the poet.

The gallant act of André's captors could not fail of calling forth a ballad:

He begged for his liberty, he plead for his discharge, And oftentimes he told them, if they'd set him at large,

"Here's all the gold and silver I have laid up in store,

But when I get down to New York I'll give you ten times more."

“I scorn your gold and silver, I've enough laid up in store,

And when that is all spent and gone, I'll freely fight for more;

So you may take your sword in hand and gain your liberty,

And if that you do conquer me, O, then you shall go free."

A line to General Arnold, to let him know his fate, And begg'd for his assistance; but alas, it was too late.

When the news it came to Arnold, it put him in a fret;

He walk'd the room in trouble, till tears his cheeks did wet;

The news it went throughout the camp, likewise throughout the fort;

He called for the Vulture, and sailed for New York. Now Arnold to New York has gone, a fighting for his king,

And left poor Major André, on the gallows for to swing;

When he was executed, he look'd both meek and mild,

He look'd on his spectators, and pleasantly did smile.

It moved each eye with pity, caused every heart to bleed;

And every one wish'd him released, and had Arnold

in his stead.

He was a man of honour, in Britain he was born; To die upon the gallows most highly he did scorn. Here's health unto John Paulding! so let your voices sound,

Fill up your flowing glasses, and drink his health around;

Also to those young gentlemen who bore him company;

Success to North America, ye sons of liberty!

The territory of the present state of Vermont was for some time a contested possession between New York and New Hampshire, the former colony claiming sixty townships, grants of which had been given by the latter. The occupants of the soil were inclined to set up for themselves, and, in 1777, declared their independence. New York would not give up her claim, New Hampshire insisted on her demands, while the third neighbor, Massachusetts, asserted a right to two thirds of the territory in dispute. It was during the height of the discussion, in 1779, when words were expected to speedily lead to blows, that the following spirited verses appeared.

THE SONG OF THE VERMONTERS, 1779. Ho-all to the borders! Vermonters, come down, With your breeches of deer-skin, and jackets of brown;

With your red woolen caps, and your moccasins,

come,

To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum.
Come down with your rifles!-let grey wolf and fox
Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks;
Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall;
Here's a two-legged game for your powder and ball.
On our South come the Dutchmen, enveloped in
grease;

And, arming for battle, while canting of peace;
On our East, crafty Meshech has gathered his band
To hang up our leaders, and eat out our land.
Ho-all to the rescue! For Satan shall work
No gain for his legions of Hampshire and York!
They claim our possessions,-the pitiful knaves,—
The tribute we pay, shall be prisons and graves!
Let Clinton and Ten Broek,t with bribes in their
hands,

Still seek to divide us, and parcel our lands;—
We've coats for our traitors, whoever they are;
The warp is of feathers—the filling of tar!

Does the "old bay State" threaten? Does Congress complain?

Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again ?
Bark the war-dogs of Britain aloud on the lake?
Let 'em come;-what they can, they are welcome
to take.

What seek they among us? The pride of our

wealth

Is comfort, contentment, and labour and health,
And lands which, as Freemen, we only have trod,
Independent of all, save the mercies of God.
Yet we owe no allegiance; we bow to no throne;
Our ruler is law, and the law is our own;

Our leaders themselves are our own fellow-men, Who can handle the sword, or the scythe, or the pen.

Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair, With their blue eyes of smiles, and their light flowing hair;

All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall, Then blithe at the sleigh-ride, the husking, and ball!

We've sheep on the hill sides; we've cows on the plain;

And gay-tasseled corn-fields, and rank-growing grain ;

There are deer on the mountains; and wood-pigeons fly

From the crack of our muskets, like clouds on the sky.

And there's fish in our streamlets and rivers, which take

Their course from the hills to our broad-bosomed lake;

Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps free,

And the portly shad follows all fresh from the sea Like a sun-beam the pickerel glides through his pool;

And the spotted trout sleeps where the water is cool;

Hon. Meshech Weare, Governor of New Hampshire.

+ Governor Clinton of New York, and Hon. A. Ten Broek, President of the New York Convention.