Pro patria : verses chiefly patriotic / Clinton Scollard [electronic text]

BALLAD OF OLD GLORY

(AUGUST, 1777)

Hear the story Of "Old Glory, —" How the flag was first unfurled Above the land By a dauntless band 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 still, 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.

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.

"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 baffle-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, "Of our success should tell!"

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 soldlet's red coat lent The stripes of a ruddy hue; A sheet gave white, then in the light Of the August noon it flew.

And O, 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!