THE LINES AROUND YORKTOWN.

Troops late by Williamsburg's brave palace walls,

With trump and drum had marched down Glo'ster street,

And some with throb of oars, and loud sea-calls

Had landed from the fleet.

And well our leader had befooled his foes —

Left them like archers blundering in the dark

To draw against the empty space their bows,

While here was their true mark.

Brave Lincoln on the right with kindling eye

Smiles‘ mid the cares of grave command immersed,

To see dramatic retribution nigh

And Charleston's fate reversed!

The Light Troops stood upon the curved right flank,

New Hampshire, Massachusetts Bay were there,

Connecticut marched with them, rank on rank,

And gallant Delaware.

There, too, Virginia's sturdy yeomen stood,

Led on by Nelson of the open hand,

As thick and stubborn as a living wood

In some enchanted land.

Next came the steady Continental Line,

Rhode Island, and New Jersey, breast to breast,

Ready to tread the hot and smoking wine

From War's red clusters pressed.

New York and Pennsylvania on these plains

Closed boldly in on the embattled town,

Nor feared they threatened penalties and pains

Of Parliament, or Crown.

And Maryland, the gay and gallant came,

As always ready for the battle's brunt;

And here again Virginia faced the flame

Along the deadly front.