William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Sumpters BandJames Wright Simmons (17901858)
W
Before the British lion’s tread;
And Freedom’s sigh in every gale
Was heard above her martyr’d dead;
In pride of place forbid to soar,
Her Eagle banner, quench’d in blood,
Lay sullen on the indignant shore,
Tyrant! upon thy purple host,
When all stood wrapt in steadfast gloom,
And silence brooded o’er her coast,
The Indian springs upon his bow,
Up rose South Mount, thy warrior son,
And headlong darted on the foe.
With bugle note and banner high,
And nodding plume, and steel of flame,
Red battle’s gorgeous panoply!
Each change and chance of fate withstood,
Beneath her sunshine and her shade,
The same heroic brotherhood!
Emerging fleet along the pine,
Prone down he flew before his band,
Like eagle on the British line!
To see her Sumpter’s soul in arms;
And issuing from each glade and glen,
Rekindled by war’s fierce alarms,
Of the wild forest, to the call
Of him whose spirit, unsubdued,
Fresh impulse gave to each, to all.
Night sees them in the fell ravine;
Familiar to each follower’s eye,
The tangled brake, the hall of green.
Springs the gaunt wolf, and thus while near
Is heard, forbidding thought of sleep,
The rattling serpent’s sound of fear!
Or fox looks out from copse to close,
Before the hunter winds his horn,
Sampler’s already on his foes!
Of valour quailing, or the shock!
And carved at last, a hero’s name
Upon the glorious Hanging Rock!
Where glory binds the soldier’s brow,
Kept bright her Sumpter’s fame in death,
His hour of proudest triumph, now.
Where Sumpter bled, nor bled in vain;
A thousand hearts shall break, before
They wear the oppressor’s chains again.
The mighty lessons taught by thee;
Since—treasured by the eternal debt—
Their watchword is thy memory!