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Pro Patria 
 
BOOKS BY MR. SCOLLARD 
 
 The Lutes of Morn {Out of Print) 
 
 Lyrics of the Dawn $1.25 
 
 Footfarings 1.25 
 
 Odes and Elegies 1.25 
 
 Easter Song 1.00 
 
 Lyrics & Legends of Christmastide 1.00 
 
 A Southern Flight 1.00 
 
 (With Frank Dempster Sherman) 
 
 A Boy's Book of Rhyme .75 
 
 Blank Verse Pastels 1.25 
 
 A Knight of the Highway 1.00 
 
 Pro Patria 1.25 
 
 GEORGE WILLIAM BROWNING 
 
 Publisher 
 Clinton^ New York 
 
Pro Patria 
 
 ^erses (Chiefly Patriotic 
 
 Clinton Scollard 
 
 clinton, n. y. 
 
 George William Browning 
 
 1909 
 
Copyright, September, 1909, by Clinton ScoUard 
 
 
 if 
 
 f;t_ JV '^ 4 6 S 6 5 
 SEP 17 1909 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 SONG OF THE SHIPS .... 
 
 THE FLAG TO THE WIND 
 
 THE WAY TO THE NEUTRAL GROUND 
 
 BALLAD OF "OLD GLORY" . 
 
 MORGAN AT COWPENS 
 
 THE SIEUR DE ROCHEFONTAINE 
 
 THE FLAG OF THE BONHOMME RICHARD 
 
 THE GRAVE OF LAWRENCE 
 
 THE BELLS OF INDEPENDENCE DAY 
 
 A VIVANDIERE 
 
 A SOLDIER .... 
 
 SONG FOR THE TER-CENTENARY 
 
 CHAMPLAIN 
 ON A BUST OF LINCOLN 
 AT TENNENT CHURCH . 
 HUNTLEY OF THE CASTINE 
 THE GRAVE OF LAFAYETTE 
 HERO OF THE SAXON NAME 
 BALLAD OF CALVIN TITUS . 
 THE LAST OF OUR FIGHTING LINE 
 
 OF LAKE 
 
 7 
 11 
 16 
 30 
 25 
 29 
 31 
 33 
 35 
 37 
 40 
 
 43 
 51 
 52 
 53 
 56 
 59 
 61 
 63 
 
We have known War, and its ensanguined sights, 
 
 Pain's pallid harvest, Death's divine release; 
 Hushed are the guns; sheathed is the sword that smites; 
 Let us give thanks for Peace! 
 
 We have known Want — the lean wolf — at the door; 
 
 Aye, we have known him at the hearth intrude; 
 Let us give thanks from shore to utmost shore 
 That there is plenitude! 
 
 We have known Sorrow — haply know it still; 
 
 Let us give reverent thanks that there is One 
 Whose strength unfailing and whose loving ivill 
 We all may lean upon! 
 
Pro Patria 
 
 SONG OF THE SHIPS 
 
 The great ships go a-shouldering 
 
 Along my line of shore; 
 The little ships like sea-gulls fly 
 Under the blue tent of the sky, 
 And some ivill lie a-mouldering , 
 Where phosphor lights are smouldering. 
 
 And sail no more, no more ! 
 
 Spruce and trig 
 
 Is yon bounding brig ; — 
 
 ^'Whither away, my master T' 
 *^0 just for a bit of a jaunty trip, 
 From the lazy ooze of Salem slip 
 To where the long tides roar and rip 
 Eound the coral keys 
 Of the outer seas, 
 
 And the combers cry * disaster ! ' 
 Out and up with the topsail there ! 
 There ^s plenty of God's free briny air 
 
 To crowd her a little faster ! '' 
 
8 Pbo Patbia 
 
 Ah, like a lark 
 Dips yonder bark, — 
 
 Poises and dips and rises ! 
 ** Whither away ?" 
 * ' To the clear blue day, 
 And the Lost Lagoon 
 Where the flame of noon 
 
 Is full of rapt surprises. 
 And the tropic moon 
 As it swings a-swoon. 
 
 Entangles and entices." 
 
 It's *^ Champ! champ! champ!" 
 Goes the wheezy tramp, 
 
 With her funnels low and raky ; 
 * ^ Whither away T ' '' Well, the good Lord knows 
 Where we'll land if it up and blows. 
 For the keel is foul (that's one of our wo6s,) 
 
 And the screw is mighty shaky ; 
 But we'll weather to port although it be 
 Under the gray-green roof of the sea. 
 And we'll warp to the pier 
 With a rouse of cheer 
 
 Though queer be the pier and quaky." 
 
Pro Patria 
 
 Like an arrowy shaft 
 From fore to aft 
 
 Onward urges the liner ; 
 ** Whither away!" Strong comes the hail — 
 **0'er creamy crest and o'er beryl vale 
 To the gates of the Ultimate East we sail 
 Where the rose abides and the nightingale 
 
 Sits caroling — none diviner. 
 A myriad hopes — not a wraith of doubt — 
 Throb between our decks as we hurtle out ; 
 And the mind and the shaping hand of man, 
 Since the ancient surge of Time began, 
 Ne'er fashioned a splendor finer." 
 
 With sparkling spar 
 Glides the man-o'-war, 
 
 Her great-gunned turrets towering; 
 ^* Whither away?" ^'To the verge of earth 
 To guard the rights of the free of birth. 
 And give them a taste of our Yankee mirth 
 
 Wherever the foe be lowering; 
 And should it come to the last appeal. 
 To the cruel chrism of fire and steel. 
 
10 Pro Patria 
 
 Be it man on bridge, in hold, at wheel 
 There'll be no caitiff cowering ! 
 
 
 And so the ships go shouldering 
 
 Along my line of shore^ 
 And whether they dare the threat of the Horn, 
 Or maJce for the Golden Isles of Morn, 
 Under the sapphire tent of sky, 
 Some will range hack by and by, 
 And some will lie a-mouldering, 
 Where phosphor lights are smouldering, 
 
 And sail no more, no more! 
 
Pko Patria 11 
 
 THE FLAG TO THE WIND 
 
 What is the word of the Flag 
 To the world-wide wanderer, Wind, 
 • Now that valley and crag 
 Are fair with the flush of May, 
 Now that the boughs once thinned 
 By the cruel hand of the frost, 
 Laughing in leaf, are tossed 
 In the sunny face of the day ! 
 Flung over valley and crag, 
 This is the word of the flag : 
 
 * * Far in the years that are gone, 
 In freedom I had my birth. 
 Yet I am young as the dawn 
 Or the fresh Maytime of earth. 
 I have outlived my fears 
 In the stress of the wheeling 3'ears, — 
 Until, in my strength, I feel. 
 With my Stripes and my gathering Stars, 
 That I stand for a nation's weal 
 Supreme o'er the roar of wars. 
 
12 Pro Patria 
 
 Since I to the morn unfurled 
 ' Over this fair, new world, 
 
 Mine has it been to urge 
 The press of the patriot surge, 
 Whether it swept the plain 
 In the stormy wake of Wayne, 
 Or leaped on the parapet 
 At the shout of Lafayette. 
 Proud did I float on high 
 At Lawrence's valiant cry, 
 And waved in glory again 
 When Decatur sailed the main ; 
 From the banks of the Eio Grande 
 I tossed in the face of the foe. 
 Till I took my triumph stand 
 On the walls of Mexico ; 
 And when the North and the South, 
 Sworn brothers, drew apart, 
 When love was withered by drouth, 
 And hate was the flower of the heart, 
 Through ways of passion and pain. 
 Through waste of life and of lands. 
 
Pro Patria 13 
 
 Back did I lead again 
 
 To the brotherly clasping of hands. 
 
 Ne'er did my courage fail 
 
 In the doubtful days and dark, 
 
 Though under the fiery gale 
 
 The loved of the land grew stark. 
 
 I, who had seen the light 
 
 In the eyes of Washington, 
 
 Had faith that the gloom of the night 
 
 Would yield once more to the sun ; 
 
 So, rent and riven and torn. 
 
 Did I cheer the war-ranks worn. 
 
 Till the silent soldier came. 
 
 The man of the deathless name, 
 
 Who brought from the strife release 
 
 And the lovely lilies of Peace. 
 
 And when the trump of War 
 
 Pealed in the dawn once more. 
 
 And far Corregidor, 
 
 By the warm Philippine shore. 
 
 Hearkened our guns proclaim 
 
 The end of a rule of shame, 
 
14 Pko Patria 
 
 And wlien the fairest isle 
 
 In the surge of the Carib main 
 
 Cruelly crushed too long 
 
 By Spanish greed and guile, 
 
 Listed the swell of the strain 
 
 Of our mighty battle- song, 
 
 A hail did I fling to all 
 
 Of the free who erst were thrall : 
 
 ' * * Out of the wrong shall come right ; 
 Out of the darkness the light !^ — 
 Such is the message I bear 
 Ever abroad on the air. 
 I stand for the hearth and home. 
 For our precious mother Earth, 
 For her leagues of fertile loam. 
 And her mountains great of girth; 
 O'er the living and dead I wave, 
 Blessing the cradle and grave ; 
 And for none my folds are tossed 
 With a more exultant pride 
 Than for those whose lives were lost, 
 Than for those who bravely died 
 
Pko Patria 15 
 
 That the nation might abide, 
 And the right be glorified. 
 
 **Then blow, Wind, where ye will, 
 This errand to fulfill ! 
 Say thou of the sleeping ones : 
 * Ye died for the land of your love ;' 
 Say thou to her living sons : 
 ^ Strive ye to keep her true. 
 Spotless before her God above 
 For the nations of earth to view ; 
 True to her highest trust, 
 Untouched by the taint of greed, 
 TJnsoiled by all the canker and lust 
 That the low ambitions breed ; 
 One people faithful and free 
 From the marge of the sea to the sea!' '' 
 
 Flung over valley and crag. 
 Fair, or tattered and thinned. 
 Such is the word of the Flag, 
 The word of the Flag to the Wind. 
 
16 Pro Pateia 
 
 THE WAY TO THE NEUTRAL GROUND 
 
 Out of the Tory city 
 
 In the moonless murk of the night, 
 Where few knew patriot pity, 
 
 We slipped in our sudden flight. 
 We led our steeds from the thicket 
 
 Where we left them muzzle-bound, 
 And sped toward the outmost picket, — 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground. 
 
 We did not flag nor falter — 
 
 A spy may not drowse nor drift. 
 For capture means the halter, 
 
 A bough, and a speedy shrift. 
 With a faint ^^pad! pad!'' on the gravel 
 
 Did our horses' hoof-beats sound; 
 Oh, we had good cause to travel 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground ! 
 
Pko Patria 17 
 
 From a cheery tavern ingle 
 
 The light of a log fire flowed, 
 As we flashed, our cheeks a-tingle, 
 
 Down a dip of the Kingsbridge Road ; 
 But we had not dared to tarry 
 
 Had the cup been garland-crowned; 
 On that path one had best be wary, — 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground. 
 
 A challenge rude and ringing ; 
 
 A mocking, back-flung word, 
 And a bullet's vicious singing 
 
 Above as we onward spurred. 
 Past the rugged Morris highland, 
 
 Where the British cannon frowned, 
 We dashed up the wood-capped island, — 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground. 
 
18 Pro Pateia 
 
 This was where the swart Waldeekers 
 
 Burst in through the oak and pine, 
 And the bloody Hessian wreckers 
 
 Fell foul of the patriot line ; 
 Where the Pennsylvania yeomen, 
 
 Till a cordon girt them round. 
 Stood staunch 'gainst the foreign f oemen,- 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground. 
 
 The last dark danger scorning. 
 
 We shortened the naked sword. 
 As we came, ere the lift of morning, 
 
 To the Spuyten Duyvil ford. 
 Charge ! — Did their volley blind us 1 
 
 Nay, but a forward bound. 
 And lo, we had left behind us 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground ! 
 
Pro P atria 19 
 
 Death? We have known it nearer 
 
 In foray and open fight, 
 But the black dread ne 'er spoke clearer 
 
 Than out of that murky night. 
 Still oft by our campfires biding 
 
 We start at some sudden sound, 
 For in dreams we Ve been riding, — riding, — 
 
 The way to the Neutral Ground ! 
 
20 Pko Patkia 
 
 BALLAD OF "OLD GLORY'' 
 (August, 1777) 
 
 Hear the story 
 
 Of "Old Glory—'' 
 How the flag was first unfurled 
 Above the land 
 
 By a dauntless hand 
 In the heart of a wooded world. 
 
 'Twas the red August light 
 
 That brooded over the sky; 
 And the dog- star glowered by night 
 
 With its baleful, gory eye ; 
 And the leaguers cried, "if ye 're stubborn stilly 
 
 Forsooth, ye are like to die ! ' ' 
 
 Here St. Leger lay. 
 
 And the boastful Baronet there; 
 And the painted savage horde 
 
 Crouched in their leafy lair; 
 And they tightened under the veil of the dark 
 
 The meshes of their snare. 
 
Pko Patria 21 
 
 But the gallant Gansevoort, 
 
 He would not yield an ell ; 
 Bullet for bullet he bandied them, 
 
 And he flung them shell for shell ; 
 And he grimly swore that he'd stand his ground 
 
 Till the last defender fell. 
 
 From the parapet his gaze, 
 
 In the blaze of the middle morn, 
 
 Lit on the leaguer's camp, 
 
 And marked it silent and shorn ; 
 
 Then sudden out from the wood there leaped 
 A ranger wander-worn. 
 
 The back-swung gate he gained. 
 And he shouted, ^'Herkimer!" 
 * * Where ? ' ' cried the gallant Gansevoort ; 
 ^ ^ He comes, ' ' quoth the wanderer, 
 
 From the bivouac-place at Orisca's pines 
 By the road through fern and fir. 
 
 iC 
 
22 Pbo Patbia 
 
 ^'And this is the word he sends, — 
 
 ^Fire thou a signal gun, 
 And fall in force on the leaguer's front 
 
 Ere the nooning of the sun. ' ' ' 
 Then '^volunteers!'* cried Gansevoort; 
 
 And there sprang forth many an one. 
 
 Down on the leaguer's camp 
 
 With a battle-shout they bore ; 
 (Some had gone ere the gray of dawn, 
 
 Toward the clear Orisca's shore 
 To harry the hardy Herkimer 
 
 On-pressing to the fore;) 
 And those of the startled leaguers left, 
 
 I' faith, they were smitten sore! 
 
 Hither and yon they fled, 
 Impetuous, pell-mell ; 
 While arms and stores by the triple scores 
 
 To the valiant victors fell. 
 ''A flag," cried the gallant Gansevoort, 
 *'0f our success should tell!" 
 
Pro Patria i 
 
 A flag ? They had only heard 
 
 What the emblem was to be, — 
 
 Of the stripes and stars as the avatars 
 That should symbol liberty, 
 
 That should tell the earth of the blessed birth 
 Of a people truly free ! 
 
 And these undaunted souls. 
 
 Foiled should they be ? Not they ! 
 
 In the cumber and clutter of battle spoils 
 A keen eye saw a way 
 
 To show the foe what should work them woe 
 Upon many an after day! 
 
 The folds of a camlet cloak 
 
 To the banner brought its blue ; 
 
 A British soldier's red coat lent 
 The stripes of a ruddy hue ; 
 
 A sheet gave white, then in the light 
 Of the August noon it flew. 
 
24 Pro Pateia 
 
 And 0, what a cheer went up 
 
 To the vault of the burning sky !— 
 
 Ah, many a marching year since then 
 Has the fair flag waved on high ! 
 
 And many another year, God please. 
 Shall the same brave banner fly I 
 
Pro Patria 25 
 
 MOEGAN AT COWPENS 
 
 When, like a baleful planet-fire, 
 Disaster menaced, red and dire. 
 They hayed the foe and broke him; then 
 A rouse, a rouse for Morgan's men! 
 
 Over the Carolinian skies 
 
 Are shredded clouds that the north- winds toss ; 
 In the long-aisled forest canopies 
 
 The rime shines white on the hanging moss ; 
 And the upland ways are frosty-wet 
 Back from the marge of the Pacolet ! 
 
 Who goes there in the murk of the night ? 
 
 Who goes there in the bleak of the dawn ? 
 Armed men with their bayonets bright, 
 
 Armed men with their sabres drawn! — 
 Horse and footmen, with eager stride, 
 Pressing toward Thicketty Mountain side ! 
 
26 Peo Patkta 
 
 Horse and footmeu, a bloody brood, 
 
 Tory and red-eoat regular. 
 Fired with the ire of a bitter feud 
 
 Under the hist pale southern star! 
 Tarleton, he of the e^il fame, 
 Goading on in King George ^s name! 
 
 Woods before them and woods behind. 
 
 And the umbered grass of the intervales 
 
 Where the cattle fed when the days were kind 
 With the spicery of the April gales ! 
 
 Then broke, above them, upon the ^iew 
 
 The silent ranks of the ' ' butf and blue ; — ' ' 
 
 Gallant men of the Marvland line; 
 
 Colonel Washington's stout dragoons; 
 E angers as staunch as the moimtain pine 
 
 Bred -neath the calm Virginian noons ; 
 And from far Savannah and the sea 
 Impetuous Georgians, fain to be free ! 
 
Pro Patr ia 27 
 
 And Daniel Morgan over them all I 
 
 There was a fighter from sole to crown, 
 
 Mighty of muscle, steel-thewed and tall, 
 One whose valor would never down, — 
 
 Proven to he without flaw or fleck 
 
 From yellow Yadkin to gray Quehec ! 
 
 Forward the resolute red-coats come ; 
 
 Might against right! Will it win the day? 
 Crackle of rifle and bullet's hum. 
 
 And the shouts and cheers and groans of the fray ! 
 Back, still back, are the patriots pressed, 
 Back to the copse on the foothill's crest! 
 
 But then, ah, then, just at poise of the scale 
 Upon Freedom's side did the balance fall ! 
 *' Butcher" Tarleton may rage and rail. 
 Vain his wrath and his rallying call ! 
 ''The new Marcellus" has launched a blow. 
 And crushed the pride of the haughty foe ! 
 
28 Pro Patria 
 
 Now Camden *s stain is a bygone thing; 
 
 Hope kindles clear in the heart once more ; 
 No room for lapsing and languishing 
 
 With fearless men like these to the fore ! 
 My Lord Cornwallis, — a sorry grin 
 Will be his when his troopers come slinking in ! 
 
 So the vision rises out of the past 
 
 Of that sanguine southern winter morn 
 
 When the British standards were downward east. 
 And victory flowered from a chance forlorn; 
 
 And it ^s hail to them! hail to them! once again, — 
 
 Daniel Morgan, and Morgan's men! 
 
Pbo Pat ria 29 
 
 THE SIEUR DE ROCHEFONTAINE 
 
 (St, Paul's Churchyard) 
 
 Picardy, Provence, Touraine — 
 Never the fair home land again 
 For the Sieur de Rochef ontaine ! 
 
 Never to lie among his own 
 
 With the soft south breezes o'er him blown 
 
 Where his stately, noble name is known ! 
 
 But ever and evermore to rest, 
 
 With the alien marble above his breast, 
 
 In the clime of his youthful soldier quest. 
 
 In the tyrannous time of war and woe, 
 The ancient foe of his folk our foe. 
 Hither he came with Rochambeau. 
 
 Lace and ruffle and epaulet, 
 Grace and a courtier bearing, yet 
 A soul as valiant as Lafayette. 
 
30 Peo Patria 
 
 A valiant soul that burned to be 
 
 In the fore of the fight for liberty 
 
 With the dauntless men who would fain be free. 
 
 Just another who caught the gleam 
 
 Of the sun of Freedom's rising beam, 
 
 Who saw the vision, who dreamed the dream. 
 
 Daily Broadway's clamors and calls 
 Sweep by the chapel of old St. PauPs, 
 Its levelled graves and its ivied walls. 
 
 Here he sleeps ; may his slumber be 
 
 Sweet with the great felicity 
 
 That waits, 'tis said, beyond Death's dark sea. 
 
 Never the fair home land ! — and still 
 
 What matters it for a noble will 
 
 That smites for right 'gainst a giant ill ? 
 
 Ours the freedom he helped to gain ; 
 So a plot of our free domain 
 For the Sieur de Rochef ontaine ! 
 
Peo Patkia 31 
 
 THE FLAG OF THE BONHOMME RICHARD 
 
 Illustrious ensign, hail ! 
 
 Thou that of yore 
 
 Didst dare the warder winds of England's shore 
 
 That Freedom might prevail ! 
 
 I see thee flutter proudly at the peak, 
 
 "With thine unsullied stripes and virgin stars, 
 
 Wherefrom thou seem'st to speak 
 
 To purblind kings upon their shaking thrones 
 
 Of sundered shackles and of broken bars, 
 
 Of larger love and larger liberty 
 
 Within a land that no allegiance owns 
 
 Beyond the plunge of the uneasy sea ! 
 
 Above the murky gush of battle smoke, 
 O'er all the slaughter of the deadly scene. 
 When ship met ship with mortal conflict-stroke. 
 Still didst thou float, triumphant and serene. 
 Below, the grim and shotted guns 
 Thundered of tyranny the quaking knell ; 
 
32 Pro Pateia 
 
 Aloft, didst thou make strong thy bleeding sons 
 
 With thine inspiring spell, 
 
 Waving ^ ' Fight on, for all will yet be well ! * ' 
 
 firstling flag, thine was the prophecy 
 
 Of the great days to be ! 
 
 Thou wert the omen of the glorious time 
 
 Toward which we climb. 
 
 Behold, behold, how the fleet years unveil 
 
 The heights from which thy compeers shall be cast,- 
 
 Cast to the banded blows of every gale ! — 
 
 Across the perilous pathways of the Past 
 
 Illustrious ensign, hail ! 
 
Pro Patbia 33 
 
 THE GRAVE OF LAWRENCE 
 
 (Trinity Churchyard) 
 
 Morn and noon of day and even, human ebb and flow ; 
 Overhead, the stars of midnight, — scarce the faintest 
 
 glow,— 
 Shrunken into misty marsh-fires by the city's glare; 
 Here he sleeps, our sailor hero, — pause and hail him fair! 
 Here he sleeps where jostling Wall Street merges in 
 
 Broadway, 
 And the roar is as a legion leaping to the fray. 
 
 Out from Trinity's dim portal floats the chanting choir; 
 
 Matchless midst the girdling granite lifts the graceful 
 spire. 
 
 Many slumberers around him, men of Church and State ; 
 
 Here he sleeps, our sailor hero, great among the great ! 
 
 Simple lines to mark his slumber ; how the letters speak ! 
 
 *^ Lawrence'' (hark, ye money-getters!) **of the Chesa- 
 peake ! ' ' 
 
34 Pko Pateia 
 
 Stone may call in clearer accents than tlie loudest lip. 
 Just a name ! What does it cry you? ^* Don't give up the 
 
 ship ! ' ' 
 Aye, there's something more than millions, — a far nobler 
 
 aim! 
 Here he sleeps, our sailor hero, nothing but a name ! 
 Yet (and who can pierce the future!) this may one day be 
 As a burning inspiration both on land and sea ! 
 
Pro Patria 35 
 
 THE BELLS OF INDEPENDENCE DAY 
 
 What is it throbs adown the night 
 
 With golden falls and silvery swells ? 
 From placid plain and slope and height 
 It is the paean of the bells ; 
 
 It is the echo of the note 
 
 (Hearken the vibrant midnight chime!) 
 From one now memorable throat 
 
 Of Revolutionary time. 
 
 * ^ Freedom ! ' ' — the sound assailed the sky ; 
 It filled, it thrilled the souls of men 
 On that far day of red July 
 Within the ancient home of Penn. 
 
 Then Might engirt our struggling sires; 
 
 Before it did they falter? nay! 
 For Right they lit their beacon fires 
 
 On windy hill, by wide sea-bay. 
 
36 Pro Patria 
 
 And on through sangninary years, 
 Spurred by the bell's exultant peal, 
 
 Freely they shed their blood and tears 
 To win and weld the Commonweal. 
 
 Not now, as then, do foes without 
 With ravin menace us and wrath ; 
 
 Not now, as then, does ogre Doubt 
 Threat the fair promise of our path. 
 
 Sea-girt, embattled, and secure, 
 The rise and set of sun we face ; 
 
 If we but hold our purpose pure. 
 Who shall surpass us in the race? 
 
 If we but heed the bells ! — their tale 
 Of how our fathers made us free, — 
 
 Then shall no human power avail 
 To darken our high destiny ! 
 
Pro Patria 37 
 
 A VIVANDIERE 
 
 (1861) 
 
 Place, North Virgil, county of Kane ; 
 
 State, — but why should we mind the state I 
 
 'Twas a time of struggle, a time of strain; 
 Alas, 'twas a time of strife and hate 
 When the hours hung heavy and big with fate ! 
 
 Sheer from the shaven crest of a pole 
 A virgin flag to the breeze was flung, 
 
 While a cheer like the pulse of a thunder-roll 
 On the sultry summer noontide rung. 
 And echo answered with strident tongue. 
 
 Thence into the meeting-house pressed the throng. 
 Filled the aisleways, and packed the pews ; 
 
 And when the strains of a martial song 
 
 Had died, then a speaker broached his views 
 In burning words such as patriots use. 
 
38 Pro Pateia 
 
 ^ * See ! " he cried, ^ ^ 'tis the muster-list, 
 
 Blazoned bright with the county's best! 
 
 They made haste to the trying tryst, 
 True to Liberty's high behest; 
 Who is here that will stand the test ? — 
 
 Who will sign f ' ' But never a word 
 
 Leaped from the lips of the many score. 
 
 Was it a whispered ^* shame!" they heard 
 Iq a woman's voice by the open door? 
 Was it a woman strode to the fore? 
 
 A woman 1 aye, little more than maid, 
 
 Her cheeks aglow with the rose of morn, 
 
 Her eyes aflash like the steel of a blade. 
 
 Her young lips arched with a curve of scorn I 
 A woman ? aye, and a heroine born ! 
 
 Where she signed with a steady hand 
 
 You may read (if you will) to this very day; 
 
 And where the men, in a shame-faced band. 
 Followed her in a spurred dismay, — 
 Columned names in a long array ! 
 
Pro Pateia 39 
 
 So, sometimes, when you're called for a toast. 
 Called for a pledge to the *' fairest fair,'' 
 
 Forget the beauties we moderns boast, — 
 
 The maids that the silks and satins wear,— 
 And quaff the health of this Vivandiere! 
 
40 Pbo Patbia 
 
 A SOLDIEE 
 
 (1898) 
 
 Out of the virile North 
 The hale young hero came 
 
 Dreaming, as he went forth, 
 The star-bright dream of fame. 
 
 He dinned no vaunting cries 
 To plague the spacious air, 
 
 But who looked in his eyes 
 Knew fear was stranger there. 
 
 He nursed no callous hate, 
 
 But in his open breast 
 A wondrous pity sate 
 
 For them that are oppressed. 
 
 To lift them from the mire 
 
 Of tyranny and shame, 
 This was his high desire. 
 
 His star-bright dream of fame: 
 
Pbo Patbia 41 
 
 To strike one sure blow home. 
 
 And then, if need be. pass 
 Back to the mother-loam. 
 
 The sweet, enfolding grass. 
 
 The long, clear bugle shrilled 
 
 Across the fervid heat : 
 Ah, how his brave soul filled. 
 
 And how his blithe heart beat ! 
 
 Up, up the tangled slope. 
 Where stabbed the cactus-thorn. 
 
 He pressed with comrade hope 
 That cloudless Cuban mom. 
 
 He struck the one sure blow, 
 
 He won the guarded steep, 
 Ere it was his to know 
 
 The quiet house of Sleep. 
 
42 Peo Patria 
 
 And those that gazed upon 
 His form, and named his name, 
 
 Saw on his face still shone 
 The star-bright dream of fame. 
 
Pro Patria 43 
 
 SONG FOR THE TER-CENTENAEY 
 OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN 
 
 (July, 1909) 
 
 Midsummer ! — and the world a full-blown flower, 
 This wide new world as virgin as its sod ; 
 
 As wondrous seemed it that unfolding hour 
 As did the blossoms upon Aaron's rod! 
 
 That distant hour when first his falcon eyes 
 Gazed on this far out-rolling inland main, — 
 
 A flawless jewel under flawless skies, — 
 
 The knightly-hearted, valorous De Champlain. 
 
 No man of pomp, no silken courtier he. 
 
 No selfish grasper after Glory's star. 
 But one who wore undimmed the fleur de lis 
 
 Like his brave patron, Henry of Navarre ! 
 
 Bred where Biscayan gales fling up the brine, 
 His look was level as a couched lance, 
 
 A valiant son of that intrepid line 
 
 Which gave fair lustre to the fame of France. 
 
44 Pro Patkia 
 
 Roland and Bayard! — he was kin to these; 
 
 Swerved he no more than magnet from the pole 
 As forth he sailed upon the uncharted seas 
 
 With dreams of high adventure in his soul. 
 
 What foes he faced, what dangers dread he dared,- 
 Patient in peace, in war unwavering! 
 
 Unmoved he toiled, unmurmuring he fared, 
 Like saintly Louis, the beloved king. 
 
 Since then the Great Recorder of the Days 
 Thousands has scrolled upon his golden book, 
 
 Yet still a sheet of shimmering chrysoprase 
 
 The great lake spreads for whomso'er may look. 
 
 Behind the peaks that panoply the west 
 Still burn the sunsets like a mighty forge ; 
 
 Still, with its voice of wandering unrest, 
 The swift Ausable rushes through its gorge. 
 
Peo Patbia 45 
 
 Slope capping slope the awakening east along, 
 Vermont's broad ranges show their emerald dye; 
 
 And still, their meadows opulent with song 
 And glad with grain, the Hero Islands lie. 
 
 Across the water, as it breaks or broods. 
 
 In twilight purple, or in dawning gold, 
 Majestic from their airy altitudes 
 
 Mansfield and White Face signal as of old. 
 
 For howsoever man's genius bares or drapes, 
 Or cleaves or curbs by frowning height or shore, 
 
 Nature's sequestered elemental shapes 
 Preserve their primal grandeur evermore ! 
 
 Grandeur and beauty ! — here the twain combine, 
 Clothing the landscape with a varied veil; 
 
 And while before our eyes their splendors shine 
 Let the grave Muse of History breathe her tale ! 
 
46 Peo Pateia 
 
 Sea of the Iroquois! This was the path 
 
 Of those swart braves whose story casts a spell, 
 
 Who cut a swath of ruin and of wrath 
 
 Where'er in stealth their vengeful footsteps fell. 
 
 As wise as wary they! Yon shadowy cove 
 Once caught the glimmer of their council-flames ; 
 
 And yonder, in that dim primeval grove, 
 They lurked to gain their sanguinary aims. 
 
 Then came Champlain and gallant Frontenac, 
 
 As daring as the keen conquistador, 
 And ever, where they voyaged, upon their track 
 
 Trailed, like a banner, the black smoke of war. 
 
 England and France ! the vision will not pale ; — 
 
 The lilied oriflamme, the double cross ; 
 * ' Saint George ! ' ' and ' ' Saint Denis ! ' ' — adown the gale 
 
 Surge upon surge the cries of conflict toss. 
 
Peo Patria 47 
 
 Ticonderoga felt the bloody brunt, 
 
 And grizzly cannon roared their deafening psalm, 
 When Abercrombie flung his fearless front 
 
 Upon the bristling bastions of Montcalm. 
 
 Another thrilling scene that fortress knew 
 When, ere the Maytime morning's earliest glow, 
 
 Bold Ethan Allen and his fearless few 
 Seized its embattled walls without a blow. 
 
 Still can we hear him ; — in the gray light see 
 The firm-set features of his mountain boys ; 
 
 **Up with your firelocks, you who'll follow me!" 
 And every soldier held his gun at poise. 
 
 Here Arnold strove, — (alas, the later hour 
 That stained a patriot name aforetime pure!) 
 
 Whelmed, yet undaunted, by the foeman's power 
 Beneath thy coppiced headlands, green Valcourl 
 
48 Pro Patria 
 
 With triumph vision, on exultant feet, 
 
 Here passed Burgoyne and his imposing train 
 
 To that grim day of desperate defeat 
 On Saratoga's memorable plain. 
 
 And here McDonough, prince of sailors he. 
 Besting his cause with the Almighty Will, 
 
 Hewed a red path to fame and victory 
 While from the shrouds a game-cock clarioned shrill. 
 
 Ah, pageant of the past! the trump, the fife. 
 The reeling shock of arms, to-day are banned; 
 
 Down closing vistas fade the stress and strife; 
 Now concord reigns, fair Gateway of the Land! 
 
 Three hundred years ! How wide a space of time, 
 Yet we may cross it on the Bridge of Dream, 
 
 And very real, though none the less sublime. 
 Transcendent figures such as Shakespere seem ! 
 
Pro Patria 49 
 
 The great are not remote. Their statures loom, 
 Although they lie in moss-encrusted graves ; 
 
 So view we him who, with the year at bloom. 
 Here led to battle his Algonquin braves. 
 
 Stanch De Champlain ! he of the questing soul 
 And the impetuous heart ! — ah, who shall say 
 
 If he beheld not back the lustrums roll 
 With revelations of our broader day ? 
 
 For his we know was the unleashed surmise, 
 The lofty impulse, the inspiring thought, 
 
 Yet must we doubt if his presaging eyes 
 
 Divined the wonders that mankind has wrought. 
 
 His fragile shallop — 'tis a steam-sped barque! 
 
 His forest torch — 'tis an electric globe! 
 A touch, and lo, an emanating spark 
 
 As surely fatal as was Nessus ' robe ! 
 
50 Pro Patria 
 
 Speech flies througli space as though on spirit wings 
 We dive beneath the sea; we cleave the air; 
 
 Beyond the portal of what unseen things 
 May not tomorrow's new explorers fare! 
 
 And yet the old — the dauntless De Champlains! — 
 Let us be mindful of the debt we owe! 
 
 A splendid ichor coursed along their veins; 
 They quailed nor faltered whatsoe'er the blow! 
 
 Meagre their tools, and starveling were their aids, 
 Yet mark the marvel of their fruitful deeds! — 
 
 On verdured banks, in fertile-bosomed glades, 
 We reap the harvest where they sowed the seeds. 
 
 Then hail them, heroes of an elder hour ! 
 
 Death's mandate only bade their struggles cease; 
 Still be their memory as a fadeless flower 
 
 As march the centuries toward the Bourne of Peace I 
 
Pko Patkia 51 
 
 ON A BUST OF LINCOLN 
 
 This was a man of miolitv mould 
 Vslio walked ere while our earthlv wavs, 
 
 Fashioned as leaders were of old 
 In the heroic days ! 
 
 Mark how austere the rugged height 
 Of brow — a will not wrought to bend ! 
 
 Yet in the eyes behold the light 
 That made the foe a friend ! 
 
 Sagacious he beyond the test 
 
 Of quibbUng schools that praise or ban ; 
 Supreme in all the broadest, best. 
 
 We hail American. 
 
 When bronze is but as ash to flame. 
 And marble but as wind-blown chaff. 
 
 Still shall the lustre of his name 
 Stand as his cenotaph ! 
 
52 Pko P atria 
 
 AT TENNENT CHUECH 
 (Monmouth Battlefield) 
 
 As on the summer Sabbath that saw the roll 
 
 O'er Monmouth's fields the sulphurous battle murk, 
 
 Down from its grassy, grave-engirdled knoll 
 Looks Tennent's ancient kirk. 
 
 They smote and open flung yon very door 
 To bear the wounded from the sanguine flood ; 
 
 Still show — ah, glorious baptism — on the floor 
 Grim stains of patriot blood ! 
 
 Along that undulant highway Washington 
 Rode up the panic and defeat to quell; 
 
 Beyond that slope-crest where the cattle run 
 Is brave Moll Pitcher's well! 
 
 Again we see it all as here we stand. 
 
 The bitter travail and the strife profound; 
 
 To us whose birthright is this noble land 
 This spot is hallowed ground! 
 
Pro Patria 53 
 
 HUNTLEY OF THE CASTINE 
 
 Not on the quarter-deck alone 
 
 Are the battle ^s bravest heroes known ; 
 
 Not by the man behind the gun 
 
 Are the glorious victories always won ; 
 
 Valor hideth a blade as keen 
 
 Out of sight of the martial scene, 
 
 Where are doughty deeds of daring done 
 
 Like Huntley's, — Huntley of the Castine! 
 
 When the little gunboat darted at dawn, 
 
 With her fluttering starry flag at peak. 
 
 Under the wall of San Juan — 
 
 San Juan of Porto Rique — 
 
 She seemed like a living, conscious thing 
 
 With the battle-passion quivering ; 
 
 At fullest speed, with her screws a-spin. 
 
 And her batteries roaring, she hurried in, 
 
 Leaping— the baby of all the fleet— 
 
 Her furnaces glowing with fury heat. 
 
54 Pko Pateia 
 
 Suddenly rose in the deepest hold, — 
 
 Down in the vessel's throbbing heart, — 
 
 A sound to test the soul of the bold, 
 
 To make the bravest blanch and start — 
 
 Not the noise of a dream, but the hiss of steam, 
 
 A socket bolt sprung loose in a seam ! 
 
 * ' Quick ! Bank the fire ! Quick ! Bank the fire ! ' ' 
 
 Cries fearless Huntley, man of the hour. 
 
 He will save from destruction dire, 
 
 Save, if it lies within mortal power. 
 
 The stokers heave with laboring breath 
 
 In a desperate fight with a demon death. 
 
 Into that reeking pit he dares, 
 
 Huntley, — Huntley of the Castine; 
 
 (0 for a waft of God's fresh sweet airs 
 
 And the sea and the heavens clear and clean !) 
 
 Pass the minutes — one — two — and three; 
 
 To him and his comrades each seems to be 
 
Pko Patria 55 
 
 A separate eternity, 
 
 The while 'mid the heat and the stifling fume 
 
 He tightens the bolt that is threatening doom ; 
 
 Then forth they hale him to see him lie 
 
 Prone before them with lidded eye, — 
 
 Nay, nay, but he did not die ! 
 
 He did not die, and when up to the blue 
 
 Of the sky they bore him with reverent mien. 
 
 And he roused and gazed on the flag that flew 
 
 O'er the blare and blaze of the battle scene. 
 
 And smiled, how they cheered him, that valiant crew ! 
 
 Shall we not join in the cheering too 
 
 For Huntley, — the hero of the Castine! 
 
56 Pro Patria 
 
 THE GEAVE OF LAFAYETTE 
 
 Not far from Paris ' troubled heart, — 
 
 Its throbs and throes, — 
 A holy ground-plot set apart 
 
 Gray walls enclose; 
 
 One place in that gay world of sham 
 
 Sans blot or blur, — 
 The quiet convent of Les Barnes 
 
 Du 8 acre Coeur! 
 
 Pass but the ancient door, and there 
 
 What vestal peace ! 
 From all the world of woe and care 
 
 A rapt release. 
 
 And there, beyond where brilliant blooms 
 
 In soft airs wave. 
 Behold, engirt by lofty tombs, 
 
 A modest grave ! 
 
Pro Pateia 57 
 
 A simple slab — no shaft of fame — 
 
 Whereon is set 
 A heroes name, — the noble name 
 
 Of Lafayette. 
 
 On him but niggard meed of praise 
 
 His own bestow; 
 With us, remembering bygone days. 
 
 Be it not so ! 
 
 When his were love and fortune, — all 
 
 To make youth sweet. 
 When life spread, one rich festival, 
 
 Before his feet ; 
 
 He left the pleasant primrose-bowers, 
 
 The paths of ease, 
 And sought a soldier's arduous hours 
 
 Far o'er the seas. 
 
58 Pro Patbia 
 
 Within his high, impulsive heart 
 
 Burned freedom's flame, 
 And he espoused the patriots' part 
 
 With ardent aim. 
 
 He fought unfaltering till the end, — 
 
 The goal, — was won ; 
 The fearless and the faithful friend 
 Of Washington. 
 
 Ah, how his deeds of dauntless will 
 
 Still starlike shine ! 
 Yorktown and Monmouth ! Barren Hill 
 
 And Brandywine ! 
 
 Then honor to the true, the brave I 
 
 His due — cur debt ! 
 Wreathed immortelles upon the grave 
 
 Of Lafayette ! 
 
Pbo Patria 59 
 
 HERO OF THE SAXON NAME 
 
 (Colonel H. C, Egbert) 
 
 hero of the Saxon name, — 
 . A noble name without a blur, — 
 Upon our valor-roll your fame 
 Is writ in fadeless character. 
 
 For from the first hard-foughten field, 
 
 Unto the last beyond the sea. 
 You faced the foemen with no shield 
 
 Save your undaunted bravery. 
 
 Ah, Fate has truly tragic ways. 
 
 Willing that you who knew the stress 
 Of Spottsylvania's lurid maze, 
 
 And all the awful Wilderness ; 
 
 Who passed, unscathed, Death ^s darkling wiles, 
 Should meet a sanguine doom, and fall 
 
 In the far, treacherous tropic isles 
 Beneath a Tagal rifle-ball ! 
 
60 Pbo Patria 
 
 **I am too old!'' you said, *^too old!'' 
 Unto the general, bending nigh ; 
 Nay, nay, soldier stanch and bold. 
 
 You were too young, too young to die ! 
 
 For we have need of such as you, 
 
 Who, howsoe'er the years depart, 
 
 Unswerving as the pole, and true. 
 
 Keep evermore their youth at heart. 
 
 But we must bow before His will 
 
 Whose word is as a choiring flame ; 
 
 Yet shall your deeds be potent still, 
 hero of the Saxon name ! 
 
Pko Patkia G1 
 
 BALLAD OF CALVIN TITUS 
 
 (August, 1900) 
 
 Calvin Titus, you're the boy, 
 
 Just a bugler though you be. 
 And we send you our ^ ^ ahoy ! ' ' — 
 
 Waft it far across the sea. 
 
 Prairie-born although you are. 
 
 Not a tittle matters it; 
 All who fight beneath our star 
 
 Show the same true Yankee grit. 
 
 North or south or east or west, 
 
 Still there's one to bear the brunt. 
 
 Like the sergeant, bold of breast, 
 
 Before Moultrie's battered front. 
 
 When the yellow Mongol horde 
 
 Girdled our undaunted few. 
 When the bullets fiercer poured. 
 
 And when famine closer drew, 
 
62 Pro Patria 
 
 It was you who led the hope, 
 
 Having shrilled the forward call; 
 
 It was you first swarmed the rope 
 To the summit of the wall ; 
 
 It was you who planted there, 
 
 All that tragic stress above, — 
 
 Flung upon the alien air, — 
 
 The fair banner that we love. 
 
 So we send you our ^ ^ ahoy ! ' ' — 
 Waft it far across the sea ; 
 
 Calvin Titus, you're the boy. 
 
 Just a bugler though you be ! 
 
Peo Patbia 63 
 
 THE LAST OF OUE FIGHTING LIKE 
 
 Perry and Porter and Bainbridge, hail, 
 
 Men of an elder day, 
 Heroes who feared neither gun nor gale, 
 
 Bold in the fiery fray ! 
 Jones, the first of our sons of the sea, 
 
 Farragut, bred to the brine, — 
 Cheers for them all, but a three times three 
 
 For the last of our fighting line ! 
 
 What did the valiant Commodore do f 
 
 Swift at the peal of war 
 He sailed the orient sea-drift through 
 
 For the isle Corregidor; 
 Kan the forts with a laugh of scorn 
 
 At the dreaded Spanish mine, 
 And lay in the bay at the burst of mom, — 
 
 The last of our fiefhtins: line ! 
 
64 Pro Patria 
 
 Olyrnpia, Boston and Baltimore, — 
 
 A gallant squadron they! 
 And they shelled the ships and they shelled the shore, 
 
 And they silenced Cavite; 
 And while the shot went hurtling by 
 
 With a deadly whir and whine, 
 He watched from the bridge with a kindUng eye, — 
 
 The last of our fighting line ! 
 
 Shattered and sunk and beached and burned, 
 
 Woe for the ships of Spain ! 
 Never a prow to be homeward turned 
 
 Over the restless main ! 
 A glorious victory ! What of the cost ? 
 
 Lo, not a single sign, 
 For not a man of the fleet was lost 
 
 By the last of our fighting line ! 
 
Pro Patria 65 
 
 Perry and Porter and Bainhridge, hail, 
 
 Men of an elder day, 
 Heroes ivho feared neither gun nor gale, 
 
 Bold in the fiery fray! 
 Jones, the first of our sons of the sea, 
 
 Farragut, bred to the brine, — 
 Cheers for them all, but a three times three 
 
 For the last of our fighting line! 
 
Tears for the weaJclings! hut for those who fought 
 And perished nobly upon land or ivave, 
 
 No lamentation, no dark draperies brought, 
 No sad songs for the brave! 
 
 But rather jubilation, — peal on peal 
 
 Of joy-bells, — Rope's white lilies 'neath the sun,- 
 Because they died with sacrificial zeal, 
 
 Their patriot duty done!