"Die of thy spleen ere I come back,
Old Stuyvesant!" With a noise of wrack
The fort blew up of his aggriever!--
But not without retriever.

For from the smoke two pigeons fly,
One south, one westward, separating,
And straight as arrows crossed the sky,
With silent orders ("_He must die_
_Who comes hereafter. Lie in waiting!_")
Their snowy pinions freighting.

They warn the men of Minisink;
They warn the Dutchmen of Zuydt River.
Now speed to Jersey's farther brink,
Old horse, old master, ere ye shrink!--
Or ambushed fall ere moonrise quiver,
On paths where ye shall shiver.

On went the twain till past the ford
That red-walled Raritan led over,
And lonely woodland shades explored.
Unarmed with firelock or with sword,
Free-hearted rode the forest rover,
Of all wild kind the drover:

Fled deer and bear before his coming,
The wild-cat glared, the viper hissed;
And died the long day's insect-drumming.
Where things of night began their humming,