Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FORT DUQUESNE: A HISTORICAL CENTENNIAL BALLAD, by FLORUS B. PLIMPTON



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FORT DUQUESNE: A HISTORICAL CENTENNIAL BALLAD, by                    
First Line: Come, fill the beaker, while we chaunt a pean of old days
Last Line: "that adds to english statesmen pitt, to english arms duquesne!"
Subject(s): Fort Duquesne; French And Indian Wars; Patriotism


I

COME, fill the beaker, while we chaunt a pean of old days:
By Mars! no men shall live again more worthy of our praise,
Than they who stormed at Louisburg and Frontenac amain,
And shook the English standard out o'er the ruins of Duquesne.

For glorious were the days they came, the soldiers strong and true,
And glorious were the days, they came for Pennsylvania, too;
When marched the troopers sternly on through forest's autumn brown,
And where St. George's cross was raised, the oriflame went down.

Virginia sent her chivalry and Maryland her brave,
And Pennsylvania to the cause her noblest yeomen gave:
Oh, and proud were they who wore the garb of Indian hunters then,
For every sturdy youth was worth a score of common men!

They came from Carolina's pines, from fruitful Delaware --
The staunchest and the stoutest of the chivalrous were there;
And calm and tall above them all, i' the red November sun,
Like Saul above his brethren, rode Colonel Washington.

O'er leagues of wild and waste they passed, they forded
stream and fen,
Where danger lurked in every glade, and death in every glen;
They heard the Indian ranger's cry, the Frenchman's far-off hail,
From purple distance echoed back through the hollows of the vale.

And ever and anon they came, along their dangerous way,
Where, ghastly, 'mid the yellow leaves, their slaughtered
comrades lay;
The tartans of Grant's Highlanders were sodden yet and red,
As routed in the rash assault, they perished as they fled.

-- Ah! many a lass ayont the Tweed shall rue the fatal fray,
And high Virginian dames shall mourn the ruin of that day,
When gallant lad and cavalier i' the wilderness were slain,
'Twixt laurelled Loyalhanna and the outposts of Duquesne.

And there before them was the field of massacre and blood,
Of panic, rout and shameful flight, in that disastrous wood
Where Halket fell and Braddock died, with many a noble one
Whose white bones glistened through the leaves i' the pale
November sun.

Then spoke the men of Braddock's Field, and hung their heads in shame,
For England's tarnished honor and for England's sullied fame;
"And, by St. George" the soldiers swore, "we'll wipe away the stain
Before to-morrow's sunset, at the trenches of Duquesne."

II

'T was night along the autumn hills, the sun's November gleam
Had left its crimson on the leaves, its tinge upon the stream;
And Hermit Silence kept his watch 'mid ancient rocks and trees,
And placed his finger on the lip of babbling brook and breeze.

The bivouac's set by Turtle Creek; and while the soldiers sleep,
The swarthy chiefs around the fires an anxious council keep;
Some spoke of murmurs in the camp, scarce whispered to the air,
But tokens of discouragement, the presage of despair.

Some a retreat advised; 't was late; the winter drawing on;
The forage and provision, too, -- so Ormsby said, -- were gone.
Men could not feed on air and fight; whatever Pitt might say;
In praise or censure, still, they thought, 't were wiser to delay.

Then up spoke iron-headed Forbes, and through his feeble frame
There ran the lightning of a will that put them all to shame!
"I'll hear no more," he roundly swore; "we'll storm the fort amain!
I'll sleep in hell to-morrow night, or sleep in Fort Duquesne!"

So said: and each to sleep addressed his wearied limbs and mind,
And all was hushed i' the forest, save the sobbing of the wind,
And the tramp, tramp, tramp of the sentinel, who started oft in fright
At the shadows wrought 'mid the giant trees by the fitful
camp-fire light.

Good Lord! what sudden glare is that that reddens all the sky,
As though hell's legions rode the air and tossed their torches high!
Up, men! the alarm drum beats to arms! and the solid ground
seems riven
By the shock of warring thunderbolts in the lurid depth of heaven!

O there was clattering of steel, and mustering in array,
And shouts and wild huzzas of men, impatient of delay,
As came the scouts swift-footed in -- "They fly! the foe! they fly!
They've fired the powder magazine and blown it to the sky!"

III

Now morning o'er the frosty hills in autumn splendor came,
And touched the rolling mists with gold, and flecked the
clouds with flame;
And through the brown woods on the hills -- those altars of
the world --
The blue smoke from the settler's hut and Indian's wigwam curled.

Yet never, here, had morning dawned on such a glorious din
Of twanging trump, and rattling drum, and clanging culverin,
And glittering arms and sabre gleams and serried ranks of men,
Who marched with banners high advanced along the river glen.

Oh, and royally they bore themselves who knew that o'er the seas
Would speed the glorious tidings from the loyal colonies,
Of the fall of French dominion with the fall of Fort Duquesne,
And the triumph of the English arms from Erie to Champlain.

Before high noon they halted; and while they stood at rest,
They saw, unfolded gloriously, the "Gateway of the West,"
There flashed the Allegheny, like a scimetar of gold,
And king-like in its majesty, Monongahela rolled.

Beyond, the River Beautiful swept down the woody vales,
Where Commerce, ere a century passed, should spread her
thousand sails;
Between the hazy hills they saw Contrecoeur's armed batteaux,
And the flying, flashing, feathery oars of the Ottawa's canoes.

Then, on from rank to rank of men, a shout of triumph ran,
And while the cannon thundered, the leader of the van,
The tall Virginian, mounted on the walls that smouldered yet,
And shook the English standard out, and named the place Fort Pitt.

Again with wild huzzas the hills and river valleys ring,
And they swing their loyal caps in air, and shout -- "Long
live the King!
Long life unto King George!" they cry, "and glorious be the reign
That adds to English statesmen Pitt, to English arms Duquesne!"





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