Part 9 (1/2)

”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 l.u.s.tily 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 vow!

The foe are on our sh.o.r.e, And we must win our freedom now, Or yield forevermore.

The share will make a goodly glaive-- Then tear it from the plough!

Lingers there here a crouching slave!

Depart, a recreant thou!

Depart, and leave the field to those Determined to be free, Who burn to meet their vaunting foes And strike for liberty.

Why did the pilgrim cross the wave?

Say, was he not your sire?

And shall the liberty he gave Upon his grave expire!

The stormy wave could not appal; Nor where the savage trod; He braved them all, and conquer'd all, For freedom and for G.o.d.

We fight for fireside and for home, For heritage, for altar; And, by the G.o.d of yon blue dome, Not one of us shall falter!

We'll guard them, though the foeman stood Like sand-grains on our sh.o.r.e, 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.

Firm be your step, steady your file, Unbroken your array; The spirits of the blest shall smile Upon our deeds to-day.

Unfurl the banner of the free Amidst the battle's cloud; Its folds shall wave to Liberty, Or be to us a shroud.

O'er those who fall, a soldier's tear Exulting shall be shed; We'll bear them upon honour's bier, To sleep in honour's bed.

The maiden, with her hurried breath And rapture-beaming eye, Shall all forget the field of death To bless the victory.

The child, O! he will bless his sire, The mother bless her son, And G.o.d, He will not frown in ire, When such a field is won.

”Good!” exclaimed Kinnison, when the song was done. ”That is a war-song of '76, I know.”

”It is,” replied the singer; ”and judging from what I have heard you say, it expresses in it the feeling of the period.”

”A truce to songs and music,” said Davenport. ”I never was fond of any kind of music but that of the fife and drum, and I never needed that to put me in a condition to stand fire.”

”You are too gloomy,” said Kinnison.