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 IX. "What—'tis the signal! start so soon,    And through the Santee swamp so deep,  Without the aid of friendly moon,     And we, Heaven help us, half asleep!  But courage, comrades! Marion leads,     The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night;  So clear your swords, and spur your steeds,     There's goodly chance, I think, of fight. X. "We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, We leave the swamp and cypress tree, Our spurs are in our coursers' sides, And ready for the strife are we— The tory camp is now in sight, And there he cowers within his den— He hears our shout, he dreads the fight, He fears, and flies from Marion's men."

Thus sang the native warrior of the Ashley, gallant George Dennison, long after the war was over. He told the story truly of the Partisan, and he did not sing amiss. He had a rough and native vigour—a talent all his own—and did not smoothe his song to the loss of spirit, and did not shape his applauses to please the ears of the pretender. He made no man the hero of his song who had not made himself a hero in his performances. Truer historian of the deeds which he beheld, never put fact on record; more faithful bard never sang in honour of brave spirits. Verily, he was not unworthy to chaunt the praises of our forest rangers.

And gallant men were the warriors whom he honoured by his songs. They owe, perchance, but little to his rustic muse, and they have had the fortune to secure the homage of others who have better guaranties of Fame. Sharing the glories of Marion, their own deeds have grown famous in song and story—while poor George Dennison remains unknown. Yet, could he now survive to describe their progress—to paint their deeds—to give us the lively details of those wild and picturesque adventures, in which day and night found them perpetually engaged—he would show us such