The boy's book of battle-lyrics a collection of verses illustrating some notable events in the history of the United States of America, from the Colonial period to the outbreak of the Sectional War |
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THE BATTLE OF THE COWPENS.
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 | The boy's book of battle-lyrics |  |
THE BATTLE OF THE COWPENS.
TARLETON'S DEFEAT.
After his disaster at Camden, Gates was superseded in the command of the Southern Departments by Greene, to whom he turned over the remnant of his army, about two thousand men in all. Of these a force of a thousand, or less, were placed in Union District, near the junction of the Broad and Pacolet rivers, nearly fifty miles to the left of Greene's position. Lord Cornwallis at once determined to attack and destroy this detachment, and sent Tarleton, with eleven hundred men, including his own cavalry and two field-pieces, for that purpose. Morgan's forces, outside of Howard's Continentals and Washington's dragoons, were raw militia, some of whom had never seen battle, had had little drill, and were devoid of discipline. The task was supposed to be easy, and Tarleton began his march in high spirits. In consequence of bad roads he was much delayed on the march, and it was not until the 15th of January, 1781, four days after starting, that he drew near the Pacolet. Morgan, finding his forces not sufficient to stop the enemy at the river, retreated and took post on the north side of Thickety Mountain, near the Cowpens. Tarleton at once pushed on in pursuit, leaving his baggage behind, riding all night, and at eight o'clock of the morning of the 17th came in sight of the American patrol. Fearing they might escape he ordered an immediate attack. To his surprise he found Morgan prepared to give battle.
It is unnecessary to expand this note further, since the movements in the battle are given with accuracy in the ballad. The pursuit of the British was not relinquished until they reached the open wood near or about the point where the fight first began. The remnant of Tarleton's force, by the next morning, reached Cornwallis's camp. The American loss was twelve killed and about forty-eight wounded. Cornwallis's report to Sir Henry Clinton gives the British loss at one hundred killed and five hundred and twenty-three prisoners. The Americans captured the two field-pieces, two standards, eight hundred muskets, thirty-five baggage-wagons, and one hundred dragoon horses. The battle was not so important itself but in its consequences. It contributed very much towards the capture of Cornwallis.
Tarleton hurried, hot and eager for the fight;
From the Cowpens, sore confounded, on that January morning,
Tarleton hurried somewhat faster, fain to save himself by flight.
When his force was made our ready blows to feel;
When his horsemen and his footmen fled in wild and pallid terror
At the leaping of our bullets and the sweeping of our steel.
Then at night on Thickety Mountain made our camp;
There we lay upon our rifles, slumber quickly coming to us,
Spite the crackling of our camp-fires and our sentries' heavy tramp.
Ere our scouts announced the coming of the foe;
While the hoar-frost lying near us, and the distant watercourses,
Gleamed like silver in the sunlight, seemed like silver in their glow.
That they scarce would care to follow us again;
In the rear the Continentals—none were readier nor braver;
In the van, with ready rifles, steady, stern, our mountain men.
Waiting panther-like upon the foe to fall,
Formed upon the slope behind us, where, on rawboned country horses,
Sat the sudden-summoned levies brought from Georgia by M'Call.
It was then upon the very nick of nine;
Soon upon the road from Spartanburg we saw their bayonets glancing,
And the morning sunlight playing on their swaying scarlet line.
There was naught about them fearful, after all,
“Tarleton's quarter is the sword-blade, Tarleton's mercy is the ball.”
Who was slain while asking quarter at their hand;
Of that morning when was driven forth my sister and my mother,
From our cabin in the valley by the spoilers of the land.
Of my sister in her beauty brought to shame;
Of the wretches' jeers and laughter, as from mud-sill up to rafter
Of the stripped and plundered cabin leaped the fierce, consuming flame.
No! it stirred within my spirit fiercer ire;
And I gripped my sword-hilt firmer, and my arm and heart grew stronger;
And I longed to meet the wronger on the sea of steel and fire.
Pattered fast from scattered rifles on each wing;
Here and there went down a foeman, and the ground began to redden;
And they drew them back a moment, like the tiger ere his spring.
On your rifles and a careful aim rely.
They were trained in many battles—we in workshops, fields, and forges;
But we have our homes to fight for, and we do not fear to die.”
Strong of heart, the threatened onset, and it came:
Up the sloping hill-side swiftly rushed the foe so fiercely hated;
On they came with gleaming bayonet 'mid the cannon-smoke and flame.
Of his men we heard his voice's brazen tone;
With his dark eyes flashing fiercely, and his sombre features telling
In their look the pride that filled him as the champion of the throne.
Of our forward line upon their close-set ranks;
Then at coming of their steel, which moved with steadiness untiring,
Fled our mountaineers, re-forming in good order on our flanks.
Filled the forest, stirred the air, and shook the ground;
Charged with thunder-tramp the horsemen, while their sabres shone before us,
Gleaming lightly, streaming brightly, through the smoky cloud around.
Leaped the rattle of the battle and the roar;
Fierce the hand-to-hand engaging, and the human freshet raging
Of the surging current urging past a dark and bloody shore.
Storm that smote them, and we saw their centre swerve.
Tarleton's eye flashed fierce in anger; Tarleton's face began to redden;
Tarleton gave the closing order—“Bring to action the reserve!”
Cheering lustily, they fell upon our flanks;
And their worn and wearied comrades, at the sound so spirit-stirring,
Felt a thrill of hope and courage pass along their shattered ranks.
And displayed in all their pride the scarlet foe;
We beheld them, with a steady tramp, and fearless, moving forward,
With their banners proudly waving, and their bayonets levelled low.
Of the hill, and let the enemy come nigher!”
Oh! they thought we had retreated, and they charged in fierce disorder,
When out rang the voice of Howard—“To the right about, face!—Fire!”
And our balls made red a pathway down the hill;
Broke the foe, and shrank and cowered; rang again the voice of Howard—
“Give the hireling dogs the bayonet!”—and we did it with a will.
Than their comrades, on our rear in fury bore;
But the light-horse led by Washington soon brought it to disaster,
For they shattered it and scattered it, and smote it fast and sore.
In disorder down the Mill-gap road they fled;
Tarleton led them in the racing, fast he fled before our chasing,
And he stopped not for the dying and he stayed not for the dead.
We had never seen such running in our lives!
Ran they swifter than if seeking homes to taste domestic sweetness,
Having many years been parted from their children and their wives.
To their home o'er ocean never sailing back;
After them the red avengers, bitter hate for death had sealed them,
Yelped the dark and red-eyed sluthhound unrelenting on their track.
Tied a simple silken scarf of blue and white;
When my vision grasped it clearly to my hatred I devoted
Him, from all the hireling wretches who were mingled there in flight.
By the robber-hands of wrongers of my kin;
'Twas my sister's—for the moment things around me were forsaken;
I was blind to fleeing foemen, I was deaf to battle's din.
Vain to me they looked for succor in their need;
O'er the corses of the soldiers, through the gory pools I speeded,
Driving rowel-deep my spurs within my madly bounding steed.
Pallid fear went quickly o'er his features grim;
As he grasped his sword in terror, every nerve within him quivered,
For his guilty spirit told him why I solely sought for him.
Horse and rider—down together went the twain:
“Quarter!”—He! that scarf had doomed him! stood a son and brother o'er him;
Down through plume and brass and leather went my sabre to the brain—
Ha! no music like that crashing through the skull-bone to the brain.
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