CANTO XIX.

BATTLE OF THE THAMES.

ARGUMENT.

The army march in pursuit of the enemy. Proctor and Tecumseh. The battle. Death of Tecumseh. An episode. The interment at River Raisin.

The scene is laid at Malden,-on the Thames, and at the River Raisin. The time is eleven days.

FREDONIAD.

CANTO XIX.

THE stars in beauty travelling to the west,
Soon wear away the dewy hours of rest;
The lids of morning waken and behold

The jewell'd earth,-the curtains fring'd with gold.
The early drummers as the day appears,
Join'd with the fife, give music to the spheres-
The warriors hear the animating beat,

And rous'd from slumber bound upon their feet;
Shoulder to shoulder solid they unite

T'attend the words their leaders would recite.
Soon Harrison approach'd with Shelby near,
And these instructions with an accent clear,
He to the army with emotion gave:

"Fredonians! chivalrous, unyielding,-brave!
To strike to conquer have we pass'd the flood-
Now testify the richness of your blood.
They fled at rumour whispering your advance,---
Yea, ere they caught the anger of your glance;
But we must press them with unwearied might,
Or they'll outstrip us and avoid the fight.

To climb the craggy steep of fame is hard,
But what can equal the sublime reward?
Their fears will be as wings to their retreat,
Hence, we as eagles must pursue with heat.
Privation, labour must our souls despise,
Or never we our names eternalize.

"Johnson, lead forth your iron-bosom❜d men,
The horse count off and march in files of ten.
Wood, in the centre thy artillery form,
Whose organ notes will tune the thunder storm;
Crittenden, Trotter, Barry, King, Desha,
The thick-set infantry in line display."

The drums strike life with spirit-giving soundWith nerves in thrill the troops forsake the ground, Beating with rapid feet the dusty road,

Moving like darkness borne upon a cloud.

The time the royals with the savage fled,
The guilt of Proctor bath'd him cold with dread;
Oft as he deign'd to cast a look behind,
The starry flag was imag'd in his mind:

Thus a fell outlaw on a wizard plain,
With hand made crimson in a victim slain,
Flies with distraction to escape the cord,
While stern-pursuing Justice writes the word
Deep on his heart! He stops and lifts his hands,
Dropping with murder!—dumb he hearkening stands
To catch the passing sound; the waving wood
Dampens his soul and curdles up his blood.