’TWAS May upon the mountains, and on the airy wing | |
| 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. | |
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| But, ranged in serried order, attent on sterner noise, | 5 |
| 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! | |
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| “My comrades,”—thus the leader spake to his gallant band,— | |
| “The key of all the Canadas is in King George’s hand, | 10 |
| Yet, while his careless warders our slender armies mock, | |
| Good Yankee swords—God willing—may pick his rusty lock!” | |
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| At every pass a sentinel was set to guard the way, | |
| Lest the secret of their purpose some idle lip betray, | |
| As on the rocky highway they marched with steady feet | 15 |
| To the rhythm of the brave hearts that in their bosoms beat. | |
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| The curtain of the darkness closed ’round them like a tent, | |
| 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. | 20 |
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| O proud Ticonderoga, enthroned amid the hills! | |
| 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! | |
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| In silence and in shadow the boats were pushed from shore, | 25 |
| 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. | |
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| Fourscore and three they landed, just as the morning gray, | |
| Gave warning on the hilltops to rest not or delay; | 30 |
| Behind, their comrades waited, the fortress frowned before, | |
| And the voice of Ethan Allen was in their ears once more: | |
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| “Soldiers, so long united—dread scourge of lawless power! | |
| Our country, torn and bleeding, calls to this desperate hour. | |
| One choice alone is left us, who hear that high behest— | 35 |
| To quit our claims to valor, or put them to the test! | |
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| “I lead the storming column up yonder fateful hill, | |
| 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!” | 40 |
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| From man to man a tremor ran at their captain’s word,— | |
| (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! | |
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| “Right face, my men, and forward!” Low-spoken, swift-obeyed! | 45 |
| 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! | |
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| They swarm before the barracks—the quaking guards take flight, | |
| And such a shout resultant resounds along the height, | 50 |
| As rang from shore and headland scarce twenty years ago, | |
| When brave Montcalm’s defenders charged on a British foe! | |
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| Leaps from his bed in terror the ill-starred Delaplace, | |
| To meet across his threshold a wall he may not pass! | |
| The bayonets’ lightning flashes athwart his dazzled eyes, | 55 |
| And, in tones of sudden thunder, “Surrender!” Allen cries. | |
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| “Then in whose name the summons?” the ashen lips reply. | |
| 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!” | 60 |
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| Light clouds, like crimson banners, trailed bright across the east, | |
| 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. | |
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| Still, wave on wave of verdure, the emerald hills arise, | 65 |
| 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! | |
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