Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/326

 310 GEORGE V. CUTTER. [1840-50. The notes of death to craven fear — The music of the bold. The foe ! the foe ! along thy pass, His locust horde appears ; We saw the sheen of his cuirass — The glitter of his spears. As stars that svkd the milky way, His glittering lances shine ; And the banners of his long array, "Were as the sun's decline. The sky grew darker o'er them, And murmured low and dread; And the solid earth before them, Was clouds beneath their tread. We gazed upon the iris streams — The stars, whose diamond ray Upon our Union banner beams — Shall they come down to-day ? No ! by our country's sacred call ! No ! by thy graceful waves ! No ! no ! thy stars shall never fall But on our shroudless graves ! Then with one fearful, wild hurra, The solemn hills ring out; And Echo, from her caves afar. Sent back the startling shout : The foe recoiled, his glittering ranks O'er all that vale were bright, Like a stream that floods its lofty banks Beneath the starry night. They halt, and forth on foaming steeds, And banners flowing white ; St. Ana's herald forward speeds A parley to invite : "Our General, in his meekness And mercy, hath designed, In pity of your weakness, To treat you very kind. " He knows how feeble is your strength — How poorly armed ye are ; 'Tis certain ye must yield at length. Or madly perish there ! To end at once your foolish hopes. To make this statement clear. Know that three thousand chosen troops Are posted in your rear. " He hath four and twenty cannon here, And twenty thousand men, To pour the lava tide of war Along this narrow glen : Then yield ye, prisoners of his grace. And spare the loss of blood. Or he'll sweep you from before his face, As foam before the flood." " Here, May, go thou invite him ; Ye need not tarry long ; Tell him that I would fight him Were he fifty times as strong." Thus answered Rough and Ready ; One hurra rent the sky ! And our ranks grew firm and steady Beneath his eagle eye. Then came their cymbal's ringing clash. Shrill fife, and rolling drum ; The opening cannon's thunder-crash, The wildly rending bomb ; Up rose their sable flag, and cast Its stain upon the breeze. Like that which from the rover's mast Sheds terror o'er the seas. ' We saw it, and we inly swore By Him in whom we trust. Though red with our last drop of gore, To trail it in the dust. How well that promise has been kept, Ye who would seek to know, Go ask the kindi-ed who have wept, O'er trampled Mexico. The trumpet sounds ; the foe moves on Along the mountain crag ; Then burst thy earthquake, Washington ! And roared thy thunder, Bragg !