Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore). You can also browse the collection for Ticonderoga (New York, United States) or search for Ticonderoga (New York, United States) in all documents.

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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), A battle poem. (search)
A battle poem. by Benj. F. Taylor. Break up camp, drowsy World! For the shrouds are unfurled, And the dead drummers beat the long roll through the morn, And the bugle-blown orders Invade the dumb borders Where the grave-digger dreamed he had laid them forlorn. From old Saratoga, From old Ticonderoga, From Bennington, Bunker, and Lexington Green, They have marched back sublime To the sentries of time, And have passed on triumphant, unchallenged between! I can hear the flint-locks,-- The old click of the clocks That timed Liberty's step to no pendulum swing! When the bullets all sped, Woman smilingly said, “Let us charm the dull weights till they fly and they sing!” Ah! those old blackened ladles Where Glory's own cradles! Rocked a red-coat to sleep with each birth from the mould, And the old fashioned-fire Blazed hotter and higher, Till it welded the New World and walled out the Old. By battalions they come, To the snarl of the drum! Bleeding feet that turn beautiful, printing
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 103 (search)
grave, Than bow to tyrant's slavery! Who but the “Yankees” dared to break The bonds of George, the tyrant king? And who but they, ne'er feared to stake Upon their cause their every thing? Who but the “Yankees” justly brought Destruction on the British tea, And then against the tyrant fought The battles of our Liberty? And who but they, with iron will-- A sabre and a trusty gun-- Earned laurels bright at Bunker Hill, At Concord, and at Lexington? Who but a “Yankee” dared to stand Before Ticonderoga's wall, And, in Jehovah's name command, “This night thou shalt surrender all” ? Call me a “Yankee!” --who but they, O'er Delaware's proud but frosty tide, With frozen feet, once pushed their way, Led on by Washington, their pride! Who but a “Yankee” forced to yield Cornwallis' trembling Hessian horde, And, as the victor of the field, Received that British tyrant's sword? Who but the “Yankees” fiery hot, Rushed to the battle-field and plain, And, led on by their bel