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REAMING, last night, of Pierre Van Wyck,
 * I felt the nightmare creeping o’er me;

In vain I strove to speak or strike,
 * The horrid form was still before me;

Till panting—struggling to be free,
 * I raised my weak but desperate head,

And faintly muttered “John Targee!”
 * When—with a howl—the goblin fled.

I waked and cried in glad surprise:
 * “The man is found ordained by Fate

To break our bonds, and exorcise
 * The nightmare of the sleeping State.

He’ll chase the demons great and small;
 * They’ll sink his withering gaze before.

Then rouse! ye Sachems at the Hall,
 * And nominate him Governor.

“Up with the name on Freedom’s cause,
 * Inscribe it, Bucktails, on your banner;