James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
May 10The Surprise at Ticonderoga
By Mary A. P. Stansbury
’T
Of every floating zephyr came pleasant sounds of spring,—
Of robins in the orchards, brooks running clear and warm,
Or chanticleer’s shrill challenge from busy farm to farm.
Stood stalwart Ethan Allen and his “Green Mountain Boys,”—
Two hundred patriots listening, as with the ears of one,
To the echo of the muskets that blazed at Lexington!
“The key of all the Canadas is in King George’s hand,
Yet, while his careless warders our slender armies mock,
Good Yankee swords—God willing—may pick his rusty lock!”
Lest the secret of their purpose some idle lip betray,
As on the rocky highway they marched with steady feet
To the rhythm of the brave hearts that in their bosoms beat.
When, travel-worn and weary, yet not with courage spent,
They halted on the border of slumbering Champlain,
And saw the watch lights glimmer across the glassy plain.
O bastions of old Carillon, the “Fort of Chiming Rills!”
Well might your quiet garrison have trembled where they lay,
And, dreaming, grasped their sabres against the dawn of day!
Strong hands laid down the musket to ply the muffled oar;
The startled ripples whitened and whispered in their wake,
Then sank again, reposing, upon the peaceful lake.
Gave warning on the hilltops to rest not or delay;
Behind, their comrades waited, the fortress frowned before,
And the voice of Ethan Allen was in their ears once more:
Our country, torn and bleeding, calls to this desperate hour.
One choice alone is left us, who hear that high behest—
To quit our claims to valor, or put them to the test!
Yet not a man shall follow save at his ready will!
There leads no pathway backward—’t is death or victory!
Poise each his trusty firelock, ye that will come with me!”
(Like the “going” in the mulberry-trees that once King David heard),—
While his eagle glances sweeping adown the triple line,
Saw, in the glowing twilight, each even barrel shine!
They mount the slope unfaltering—they gain the esplanade!
A single drowsy sentry beside the wicket-gate,
Snapping his aimless fusil, shouts the alarm—too late!
And such a shout resultant resounds along the height,
As rang from shore and headland scarce twenty years ago,
When brave Montcalm’s defenders charged on a British foe!
To meet across his threshold a wall he may not pass!
The bayonets’ lightning flashes athwart his dazzled eyes,
And, in tones of sudden thunder, “Surrender!” Allen cries.
The mountaineer’s stern visage turns proudly to the sky,—
“In the name of great Jehovah!” he speaks with lifted sword,
“And the Continental Congress, who wait upon his word!”
As the great sun rose in splendor above a conflict ceased,
Gilding the bloodless triumph for equal rights and laws,
As with the smile of heaven upon a holy cause.
Where once were heroes mustered from men of common guise,
And still, on Freedom’s roster, through all her glorious years,
Shine the names of Ethan Allen and his bold volunteers!