Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
The Old Continentals
By AnonymousI
Stood the old Continentals,
Yielding not;
While the grenadiers were lunging,
And like hailstones fell the plunging
Cannon shot!
Where the files
Of the Isles,
From the smoky night encampment,
Bore the banner of the rampant
Unicorn;
And grummer, grummer, grummer,
Rolled the “roll” of the drummer,
Through the morn.
And with guns horizontal,
Stood our sires;
And the balls whistled deadly,
And in flames flashing redly,
Blazed the fires;
As the swift
Billows drift,
Drove the dark battle breakers
O’er the green sodded acres
Of the plain;
And louder, louder, louder,
Cracked the black gunpowder,
All amain!
Labored the red St. George’s
Cannoneers.
And the villanous saltpetre
Rung a fierce, discordant metre
Round our ears;
Like the roar
On the shore,
Rose the horse-guards’ clangor,
As they rode in roaring anger
On our flanks;
And higher, higher, higher,
Burned the old-fashioned fire
Through the ranks!
Galloped through the white infernal
Powder cloud,
And his broad sword was swinging,
And his brazen throat was ringing
Trumpet loud!
And the blue
Bullets flew,
And the trooper jackets redden
At the touch of the leaden
Rifle’s breath!
And rounder, rounder, rounder,
Roared the iron six-pounder,
Hurling death!