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As fly autumal leaves athwart some dale,
Borne on the pinions of the sounding gale;
Or glides thin gossamer o'er rustling reeds,
Bland's, Sheldon's, Moylan's, Baylor's, battle steeds
So skimm'd the plain. Helms plum'd and broad-swords bright
Cast glimses o'er the ground like northern light.
There quick-ey'd Arnold, not a traitor then,
Vain, on his courser, soar'd mid mightiest men:
Now fall'n like Lucifier, the son of morn,
By Britain brib'd and doom'd to deathless scorn:
For falsehood mark'd, to infamy consign'd,
One grateful truth he left to glad mankind,
That in so long a war his lonely crime
Should stain the annals of recording Time.—
 

By this it is meant, that there was not any other person of eminence in the American army guilty of treachery during our revolution.