The Ballad which follows, composed soon after the battle, has never before, that I can learn, appeared in print. Mr. Joel J. Rogers, to whom I am indebted for this interesting relic of the olden time, says, "Written by Mr. Uriah Terry, of Kingston-so says my father. Copied by Uncle Josiah from a manuscript, Dec. 20, 1785. Sixty years ago." These "uncouth rhymes" which "Implore the passing tribute of a sigh," I cannot doubt will be acceptable to the antiquarian. 1. Kind Heaven, assist the trembling muse, Of poor Wyoming's overthrow, 2. One hundred whites, in painted hue, Whom Butler there did lead, 3. The last of June the siege began, While many a brave and valiant man 4. Our troops marched out from Forty Fort, Three hundred strong, they march along, 5. But oh! alas! three hundred men, To meet eight hundred men complete, 6. Four miles they marched from the Fort Too far indeed did Butler lead, To keep a safe retreat. 7. And now the fatal hour is come- And they with ire, returned the fire, 8. Some minutes they sustained the fire, 9. And then they did attempt to fly, 10. And as they fly, for quarters cry; 11. With bitter cries and mournful sighs Run here and there, they know not where, 12. Their piercing cries salute the skiesMercy is all their cry: "Our souls prepare God's grace to share, We instantly must die." 13. Some men yet found are flying round In vain to fly, their foes too nigh! 14. And now the foe hath won the day, Methinks their words are these: "Ye cursed, rebel, Yankee race, Will this your Congress please?" 15. "Your pardons crave, you them shall have, Behold them in our hands; We'll all agree to set you free, E 16. "And as for you, enlisted crew, We'll raise your honours higher: Pray turn your eye, where you must lie, 17. Then naked in those flames they're cast, Too dreadful 'tis to tell, Where they must fry, and burn and die, 18. Nor son, nor sire, these tigers spare,- Were, by those monsters murdered there, 19. Methinks I hear some sprightly youth, "O, that my tender parents knew, 20. "But O! there's none to save my life, 21. "When years ago, I dandled was I little thought I should be brought 22. I hoped for many a joyful day, 23. "Farewell, fond mother; late I was, Your heart would ache, and even break, 24. "Farewell, indulgent parents dear, I now must die, and here must lie, 25. "For O! the fatal hour is come, The Lord have mercy on my soul!" 26. A doleful theme; yet, pensive muse, It is no fancy to delude, 27. The Forty Fort was the resort, To save them from the cruel rage, 28. Now, when the news of this defeat, You well may know our dreadful woe, 29. A doleful sound is whispered round, The nightly gloom forbodes our doom, 30. How can we bear the dreadful spear, The tomahawk and knife? And if we run, the awful gun, Will rob us of our life. 31. But Heaven! kind Heaven, propitious power! His hand we must adore; He did assuage the savage rage, 32. The gloomy night now gone and past, The sun returns again, The little birds from every bush, Seem to lament the slain. 33. With aching hearts and trembling hands Till through the northern pines we saw, 34. Some men were chose to meet this flag, Our colonel was the chief, Who soon returned and in his mouth, 35. This olive leaf was granted life, 36. And now poor Westmoreland is lost, Our buildings they are all on fire,- 37. They did agree in black and white, 38. But O! they've robbed us of our all, And we'll rejoice and bless the Lord, 39. And now I've told my mournful tale, To help our cause and break the jaws |