Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/422

404 Having cleared all the streets, not an enemy left Whose heart was unpierced, or whose headpiece uncleft, What should we do next, but as careless and calm As if we were scenting a summer morn s balm Mid a land of pure peace just serenely drop down On a few constant friends who still stopped in the town. What a welcome they gave us! One dear little thing, As I kissed her sweet lips, did I dream of the King? Of the King or his minions? No; war and its scars Seemed as distant just then as the fierce front of Mars From a love-girdled earth; but, alack! on our bliss, On the close clasp of arms and kiss showering on kiss, Broke the rude bruit of battle, the rush thick and fast Of the Britons made ware of our rash ruse at last; So we haste to our coursers, yet flying, we fling The old watchwords abroad, "Down with Redcoats and King!" As we scampered pell-mell o er the hard-beaten track We had traversed that morn, we glanced momently back, And beheld their long earthworks all compassed in flame; With a vile plunge and hiss the huge musket balls came, And the soil was plowed up, and the space twixt the trees Seemed to hum with the war song of Brobdingnag bees; Yet above them, beyond them, victoriously ring The shouts, "Death to the Redcoats, and down with the King!" Ah I that was a feat, lads, to boast of! What men Like you weaklings to-day had durst cope with us then? Though I say it who should not, I am ready to vow I d o ermatch a half score of your fops even now