“One may look through Greek and Roman history in vain to find men holding such noble and patriotic sentiments, while harassed with want of every kind,” said Hand, growing eloquent.
“Ah! those were times to try the metal men were made of,” said Colson. “The men who took up the sword and gun for freedom were resolved to win their country’s safety or die in the attempt, and such men will not be bought at any price. Arnold was a mere soldier—never a patriot.”
“I might combat that last remark,” said Davenport, “but I’ll let it go.”
“Come, Brown, more music,” exclaimed Warner. “The dinner and the dull conversation makes some of us drowsy. Stir us up, man!”
“There’s nothing like the fife and drum for rousing men,” said Kinnison. “I hate these finnicking, soft and love-sick instruments, such as pianos, guitars and some others they play on now-a-days. There’s no manliness about them.”
Brown and Hanson, having produced their old martial instruments, then struck up “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the best of the national anthems of America. Soon after the last roll of the fife had ended, Hand, without invitation, struck up the anthem itself, and sang the words with great force, the whole company joining in the two last lines of every verse. The music and the anthem thoroughly roused the old as well as the young members of the company, and, at its conclusion, three cheers were lustily given for the stars and stripes. One of the young men then said that he had a song to sing, which would be new to the company; but still was not an original composition. The music was stirring and appropriate. The words were as follows:—
Freemen! arise, and keep your
The foe are on our shore,
And we must win our freedom now,
Or yield forevermore.
The share will make a goodly
Then tear it from the plough!
Lingers there here a crouching slave!
Depart, a recreant thou!
Depart, and leave the field
Determined to be free,
Who burn to meet their vaunting foes
And strike for liberty.
Why did the pilgrim cross
Say, was he not your sire?
And shall the liberty he gave
Upon his grave expire!
The stormy wave could not
Nor where the savage trod;
He braved them all, and conquer’d all,
For freedom and for God.
We fight for fireside and
For heritage, for altar;
And, by the God of yon blue dome,
Not one of us shall falter!
We’ll guard them, though
the foeman stood
Like sand-grains on our shore,
And raise our angry battle-flood,
And whelm the despots o’er.
We’ve drawn the sword,
and shrined the sheath
Upon our father’s tomb;
And when the foe shall sleep in death,
We’ll sheath it o’er their doom.