Chapter IV

COW-CHASE.

BY MAJOR JOHN ANDRÉ.

Elizabethtown, August 1, 1780.

CANTO I.

To drive the kine, one summer's morn, The tanner[27] took his way: The calf shall rue that is unborn The jumbling of that day. And Wayne descending steers shall know, And tauntingly deride, And call to mind, in ev'ry low, The tanning of his hide. Let Bergen cows still ruminate Unconscious in the stall, What mighty means were used to get, And lose them after all. For many heroes bold and brave From New Bridge and Tapaan, And those that drink Passaic's wave, And those that eat soupaan;[28] And sons of distant Delaware, And still remoter Shannon, And Major Lee with horses rare, And Proctor with his cannon— All wondrous proud in arms they came! What hero could refuse To tread the rugged path to fame, Who had a pair of shoes?[29] At six the host, with sweating buff, Arrived at Freedom's Pole,[30] When Wayne, who thought he'd time enough, Thus speechified the whole: "O ye whom glory doth unite, Who Freedom's cause espouse, Whether the wing that's doomed to fight, Or that to drive the cows; "Ere yet you tempt your further way, Or into action come, Hear, soldiers, what I have to say, And take a pint of rum.[31] "Intemperate valor then will string Each nervous arm the better, So all the land shall IO! sing, And read the gen'ral's letter.[32] "Know that some paltry refugees, Whom I've a mind to fight, Are playing h—l among the trees That grow on yonder height! "Their fort and block-house we'll level, And deal a horrid slaughter; We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil, And ravish wife and daughter. "I under cover of th' attack, Whilst you are all at blows, From English Neighb'rhood and Tinack Will drive away the cows. "For well you know the latter is The serious operation, And fighting with the refugees[33] Is only—demonstration." His daring words from all the crowd Such great applause did gain, That every man declared aloud For serious work with—Wayne. Then from the cask of rum once more They took a heavy gill, When one and all they loudly swore They'd fight upon the hill. But here—the Muse has not a strain Befitting such great deeds: "Hurra," they cried, "hurra for Wayne!" And, shouting—did their needs.

CANTO II.

Near his meridian pomp the sun Had journeyed from th' horizon, When fierce the dusky tribe moved on, Of heroes drunk as poison. The sounds confused, of boasting oaths, Re-echoed through the wood: Some vowed to sleep in dead men's clothes, And some to swim in blood. At Irvine's nod, 'twas fine to see The left prepared to fight, The while the drovers, Wayne and Lee Drew off upon the right. Which Irvine 'twas Fame don't relate, Nor can the Muse assist her— Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat, Or he that gives a glister. For greatly one was signalized, That fought at Chestnut Hill, And Canada immortalized The vender of the pill.[34] Yet the attendance upon Proctor They both might have to boast of; For there was business for the doctor, And hats to be disposed of. Let none uncandidly infer That Stirling wanted spunk, The self-made Peer[35] had sure been there, But that the Peer was drunk. But turn we to the Hudson's banks, Where stood the modest train, With purpose firm, though slender ranks, Nor cared a pin for Wayne. For then the unrelenting hand Of rebel fury drove, And tore from ev'ry genial hand Of friendship and of love. And some within a dungeon's gloom, By mock tribunals laid, Had waited long a cruel doom, Impending o'er their head. Here one bewails a brother's fate, There one a sire demands, Cut off, alas! before their date, By ignominious hands. And silvered grandsires here appeared In deep distress serene, Of reverend manners that declared The better days they'd seen. Oh! cursed rebellion, these are thine, Thine are these tales of woe; Shall at thy dire, insatiate shrine Blood never cease to flow? And now the foe began to lead His forces to the attack; Balls whistling unto balls succeed, And make the block-house crack. No shot could pass, if you will take The gen'ral's word for true;[36] But 'tis a d——le mistake, For ev'ry shot went through. The firmer as the rebels pressed, The loyal heroes stand; Virtue had nerved each honest breast, And industry each hand. In valor's frenzy, Hamilton[37] Rode like a soldier big, And Secretary Harrison[38] With pen stuck in his wig. But, lest chieftain Washington Should mourn them in the mumps,[39] The fate of Withington to shun, They fought behind the stumps.[40] But ah! Thaddeus Posset, why Should thy poor soul elope? And why should Titus Hooper die— Ah! die without a rope? Apostate Murphy, thou to whom Fair Shela ne'er was cruel; In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom, "Och! would ye die, my jewel?" Thee, Nathan Pumpkin, I lament, Of melancholy fate; The gray goose, stolen as he went, In his heart's blood was wet. Now, as the fight was further fought, And balls began to thicken, The fray assumed, the gen'rals thought, The color of a licking. Yet undismayed, the chiefs command, And, to redeem the day, Cry, "Soldiers, charge!" They hear, they stand— They turn and run away!

CANTO III.

Not all delights the bloody spear, Or horrid din of battle; There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear A word about the rattle. The chief whom we beheld of late Near Schralenberg haranguing, At Yan Van Poop's[41] unconscious sat Of Irvine's hearty banging; While valiant Lee, with courage wild, Most bravely did oppose The tears of women and of child, Who begged he'd leave the cows. But Wayne, of sympathizing heart, Required a relief Not all the blessings could impart Of battle or of beef. For now a prey to female charms, His soul took more delight in A lovely Hamadryad's[42] arms, Than cow-driving or fighting. A nymph, the refugees had drove Far from her native tree, Just happened to be on the move, When up came Wayne and Lee. She in mad Anthony's fierce eye The hero saw portrayed, And, all in tears, she took him by The bridle of his jade.[43] "Hear," said the nymph, "O great commander, No human lamentations; The trees you see them cutting yonder Are all my near relations. "And I, forlorn, implore thine aid To free the sacred grove; So shall thy prowess be repaid With an immortal's love." Now some, to prove she was a goddess, Said this enchanting fair Had late retired from the Bodies[44] In all the pomp of war; That drums and merry fifes had played To honor her retreat, And Cunningham[45] himself conveyed The lady through the street. Great Wayne, by soft compassion swayed, To no inquiry stoops, But takes the fair, afflicted maid Right into Yan Van Poop's. So Roman Anthony, they say, Disgraced the imperial banner, And for a gypsy lost a day, Like Anthony the tanner. The Hamadryad had but half Received redress from Wayne, When drums and colors, cow and calf, Came down the road amain. All in a cloud of dust were seen The sheep, the horse, the goat, The gentle heifer, ass obscene, The yearling, and the shoat. And pack-horses with fowls came by, Befeathered on each side, Like Pegasus, the horse that I And other poets ride. Sublime upon the stirrups rose The mighty Lee behind, And drove the terror-smitten cows Like chaff before the wind! But sudden see the woods above Pour down another corps, All helter-skelter in a drove, Like that I sung before. Irvine and terror in the van Came flying all abroad, And cannon, colors, horse, and man, Ran tumbling to the road. Still as he fled, 'twas Irvine's cry, And his example too: "Run on, my merry men, all—for why?" The shot will not go through. Five refugees, 'tis true, were found Stiff on the block-house floor; But then, 'tis thought, the shot went round, And in at the back door! As when two kennels in the street, Swelled with a recent rain, In gushing streams together meet, And seek the neighboring drain— So meet these dung-born tribes in one, As swift in their career, And so to New Bridge they ran on, But all the cows got clear. Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder, Saw the returning train, And mourned to Wayne the lack of plunder, For them to steal again.[46] For 'twas his right to seize the spoil, and To share with each commander, As he had done at Staten Island With frost-bit Alexander.[47] In his dismay, the frantic priest Began to grow prophetic, You had swore, to see his lab'ring breast, He'd taken an emetic! "I view a future day," said he, "Brighter than this day dark is, And you shall see what you shall see, Ha! ha! one pretty marquis;[48] "And he shall come to Paulus Hook,[49] And great achievements think on, And make a bow and take a look, Like Satan over Lincoln. "And all the land around shall glory To see the Frenchmen caper, And pretty Susan[50] tell the story In the next Chatham paper." This solemn prophecy, of course, Gave all much consolation; Except to Wayne, who lost his horse Upon the great occasion— His horse that carried all his prog, His military speeches, His corn-stalk whisky for his grog— Blue stockings and brown breeches. And now I've closed my epic strain, I tremble as I show it, Lest this same warrio-drover, Wayne, Should ever catch the poet.[51]

FOOTNOTES:

Fac-simile of the last Stanza of the Cow-Chase.