Distrustful lest the foe, repulsed and wild,
Should launch again his heavier forces o'er
The flood, she moved her terror-stricken girls--
Four tender creatures--and her infant boy,
Her wounded husband and her two young slaves,
'Neath cover of thick darkness to the farm,
A mile beyond: a feat even for a man.
And then she set her woman's wit and love
To the long task of nursing back to health
Her husband, much exhaust through loss of blood,
and all the angry heat of gunshot wounds.
But James will never be himself again
Despite her care.

_Sergeant_. 'Twas well and bravely done.
Yet oft I think the women of these days
Degenerate to those I knew in youth.

_Widow_. You're hasty, Sergeant, already hath this war
Shown many a young and delicate woman
A very hero for--her hero's sake;
Nay, more, for others'. She, our neighbour there
At Queenston, who when our troops stood still,
Weary and breathless, took her young babe,
Her husband under arms among the rest,
And cooked and carried for them on the field:
Was she not one in whom the heroic blood
Ran thick and strong as e'er in times gone by?
O Canada, thy soil is broadcast strown
With noble deeds: a plague on him, I say,