By wolf or catamount, thy task undone,
Thy precious life would then be thrown away.
I cannot let thee go.

_Mrs. Secord_. Not thrown away! Nay, say not that, dear James.
No life is thrown away that's spent in doing duty.
But why raise up these phantoms of dismay?
I did not so when, at our country's call,
You leapt to answer. Said I one word
To keep you back? and yet my risk was greater
Then than now--a woman left with children
On a frontier farm, where yelling savages,
Urged on, or led, by renegades, might burn,
And kill, and outrage with impunity
Under the name of war. Yet I blenched not,
But helped you clean your musket, clasped your belt,
And sent you forth, with many a cheery word.
Did I not so?

_Mr. Secord_. Thou didst indeed, dear wife, thou didst.
But yet,--
I cannot let thee go, my darling.
Did I not promise in our marriage vow,
And to thy mother, to guard thee as myself.

_Mrs. Secord_. And so you will if now you let me go.
For you would go yourself, without a word
Of parley, were you able; leaving me
The while in His good hands; not doubting once
But I was willing. Leave me there now, James,