knew one appropriate to the occasion, which he would sing, if the old
soldiers were not too weary to listen. Of course, they expressed it to
be their pleasure that he should sing it, and he proceeded. "The song,"
said he, "is called 'The Last Revolutionary.'" The words were as
follows:--


O! where are they--those iron men,
Who braved the battle's storm of fire,
When war's wild halo fill'd the glen,
And lit each humble village spire;
When hill sent back the sound to hill,
When might was right, and law was will!

O! where are they, whose manly breasts
Beat back the pride of England's might;
Whose stalwart arm laid low the crests
Of many an old and valiant knight;
When evening came with murderous flame,
And liberty was but a name?

I see them, in the distance, form
Like spectres on a misty shore;
Before them rolls the dreadful storm,
And hills send forth their rills of gore;
Around them death with lightning breath
Is twining an immortal wreath.

They conquer! God of glory, thanks!
They conquer! Freedom's banner waves