Flung sunset from their burnished blades,
And with their bells in evening choirs
Breathed homesick men's desires:

"New Amsterdam! 'tis thine or mine--
The foreground of this stately plan!
To me the Indian did assign
Totem on totem, line on line--
Both Staten and the groves that ran
Far up the Raritan.

"By spiteful Stuyvesant long restrained,
Now, while the English break his power,
Be Achter Kill again regained
And Herman's title entertained,
Here float my banner from my tower,
Here is my right, my hour!"

III.--THE SQUATTERS.

He scarce had finished, when a rush,
Like partridge through the stubble, broke,
And armed men trod down the brush;
A harsh voice, trembling in the hush,
As it must either stab or choke,
Imperiously spoke:

"Ye conquered men of Achter Kill,
Whose farms by loyal toil ye got,
True Dutchmen! give this traitor will--