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 SURPRISE AT TRENTON.
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 | The boy's book of battle-lyrics |  |
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THE SURPRISE AT TRENTON.
A TURN OF THE TIDE.
During the latter part of 1776, affairs looked gloomy for the new Confederacy of the States. The affair at White Plains, the fall of Fort Washington, and the evacuation of Fort Lee, followed by the retreat across New Jersey, had reduced the forces of Washington to less than three thousand men. The enemy occupied Newark, New Brunswick, Princeton, Trenton, and Bordentown. They were thus scattered in detachments on a long line. When Washington crossed the river Delaware—which he did after securing every available boat on the shore—his force had dwindled to twenty-two hundred men; and this number was still further reduced by the expiration of the term of enlistment of a large portion. Congress had fled to Baltimore, and Cornwallis was about to seize Philadelphia.
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Congress now ordered increased pay to the troops, with liberal bounties, and by indefatigable exertions the ranks began to fill again. On the twenty-fourth of December, Washington's army amounted to over ten thousand men, of which about half were effective. With these he determined to make a simultaneous attack upon the detached British posts on the New Jersey side. The main force, led by Washington in person, was to cross at M'Conkey's Ferry, and fall upon the Hessians, under Rahl, at Trenton. Cadwallader was to cross near Bristol, and Ewing below Trenton Falls, to attack Mount Holly, Black Horse, Bordentown, and Burlington. He was aided unexpectedly by General Putnam, who commanded at Philadelphia. Learning of the design to attack Trenton, Putnam sent a small body of militia, under Colonel Griffin, to Mount Holly, where he was not to fight, but to retreat before the enemy. Count Donop, at Bordentown, fell into the trap, followed Griffin, and was not at hand to support Rahl at the critical moment. Neither Ewing nor Cadwallader could effect a crossing. The latter got a battalion of foot over the river, but not being able to cross the artillery, these had to return.
The incidents of the surprise are correctly given in the ballad. The loss of the Americans was only four—two frozen to death and two killed in battle. The loss of the Hessians amounted to six officers and over twenty men killed, and twenty-three officers and eight hundred and eighty-six privates made prisoners. Six brass field-pieces, four colors, and a thousand stand of arms were also taken.
The effect of this movement was inspiriting, and gave great hope and encouragement to the Americans. The English commander, who had thought the war was at an end, now learned that his task had begun again. Numbers of Americans whose term of service had expired re-enlisted, and the militia were eager to turn out whenever their services were demanded.
Ruth, help Friend English to a chair. Thee's welcome. Thee would know
The ferry where they crossed the stream, now sixty years ago,
To take the Hessians under Rahl? There's nothing now to see.
There had been that to stir thee much, had thee been there with me:
For I, though but a stripling then, trained ever to abhor
All force and strife, that raging flood crossed with the men of war.
The ferry where they crossed the stream, now sixty years ago,
To take the Hessians under Rahl? There's nothing now to see.
There had been that to stir thee much, had thee been there with me:
For I, though but a stripling then, trained ever to abhor
All force and strife, that raging flood crossed with the men of war.
Thee stares! Thee doubtless wonders much a Friend should have to say
That his communication had been more than yea or nay;
That he had been in battle where his fellow-men were slain,
And, favored to escape all harm, came back in peace again,
'Twas very wrong to violate peace principles of Friends.
Well, well! The Meeting dealt with me, and there the matter ends.
That his communication had been more than yea or nay;
That he had been in battle where his fellow-men were slain,
And, favored to escape all harm, came back in peace again,
'Twas very wrong to violate peace principles of Friends.
Well, well! The Meeting dealt with me, and there the matter ends.
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Tell thee about it? Yes, although 'twas little of a fight.
Abner, thee put up this friend's beast; he'll tarry here to-night.
And thee must take into thee mind, those who in battle stand
Know little of what's going on, save just on either hand;
And much of my recital thee will find much better told
In some well-written chronicle made in the days of old.
Abner, thee put up this friend's beast; he'll tarry here to-night.
And thee must take into thee mind, those who in battle stand
Know little of what's going on, save just on either hand;
And much of my recital thee will find much better told
In some well-written chronicle made in the days of old.
But I could tell thee all about the crossing ere the day,
The marching up to Birmingham, the silence by the way,
The rushing into Trenton with friend Sullivan and those;
And how when first we saw the foe a mighty shouting rose;
And I can tell thee something more which no one else could do—
Can name to thee the very man who Rahl the Hessian slew.
The marching up to Birmingham, the silence by the way,
The rushing into Trenton with friend Sullivan and those;
And how when first we saw the foe a mighty shouting rose;
And I can tell thee something more which no one else could do—
Can name to thee the very man who Rahl the Hessian slew.
Thee knows where Newbold's Island stands? Thee ought. Yes, that is true;
The English Farm has nigh it stood since sixteen-eighty-two.
Thee knows the old stone farm-house looking out upon the tide
Slantwise across the river on the Pennsylvany side?
In that house I was born and bred, and lived till twenty-one,
As all the Comforts had for years, from father unto son.
The English Farm has nigh it stood since sixteen-eighty-two.
Thee knows the old stone farm-house looking out upon the tide
Slantwise across the river on the Pennsylvany side?
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As all the Comforts had for years, from father unto son.
That year my father rode up here and bought this farm for me;
For Issachar he lived at home, and we could not agree.
He leaned too much on his birthright, so father to us said,
“Two farms had better hold ye!” and he got me this instead;
And I came here to work it. 'Twas a goodly start in life:
The place had been well tilled, and all I needed was a wife.
For Issachar he lived at home, and we could not agree.
He leaned too much on his birthright, so father to us said,
“Two farms had better hold ye!” and he got me this instead;
And I came here to work it. 'Twas a goodly start in life:
The place had been well tilled, and all I needed was a wife.
I went among the women-folk, as usual with a youth,
And soon I fell in love with one, Friend Scudder's daughter, Ruth;
And straightway found the damsel moved, and in her spirit free
Before the Friends in meeting to stand up along with me.
And we would be united, if our people's minds were clear,
On Fourth-day of the first week of the First-month in next year.
And soon I fell in love with one, Friend Scudder's daughter, Ruth;
And straightway found the damsel moved, and in her spirit free
Before the Friends in meeting to stand up along with me.
And we would be united, if our people's minds were clear,
On Fourth-day of the first week of the First-month in next year.
The weeks that came were pleasant weeks, the world was all in tune;
The stars were always bright at night, the month was fair as June.
Dear Ruth! whose eyes were mild as doves', whose tones were sweet as birds'—
More pleasant was the maid to me than gold or land or herds.
Sweet Ruth! at eighty-two my ears find music in the name;
But human bliss must reach its end, and bleak December came.
The stars were always bright at night, the month was fair as June.
Dear Ruth! whose eyes were mild as doves', whose tones were sweet as birds'—
More pleasant was the maid to me than gold or land or herds.
Sweet Ruth! at eighty-two my ears find music in the name;
But human bliss must reach its end, and bleak December came.
Meanwhile the people round us fought, the country was one camp;
Sometimes, far in the dead of night, I'd hear the soldiers' tramp.
The Friends were loyal? Nay, not all; if loyalty be such
As favors fraud and winks at wrong, then few were loyal—much;
Yet few felt free to go to war—they dwelt upon the word
Which says that they who take the sword shall perish by the sword.
Sometimes, far in the dead of night, I'd hear the soldiers' tramp.
The Friends were loyal? Nay, not all; if loyalty be such
As favors fraud and winks at wrong, then few were loyal—much;
Yet few felt free to go to war—they dwelt upon the word
Which says that they who take the sword shall perish by the sword.
It was a chilly morning when, foreboding naught of harm,
I crossed the river in my skiff, and sought the Scudder farm:
About the hour when Ruth would have her household work all through,
And ready be to take a walk, the scene around to view.
The trees were leafless, and the ground was covered half with snow;
But what is that to human hearts with youth and love aglow!
I crossed the river in my skiff, and sought the Scudder farm:
About the hour when Ruth would have her household work all through,
And ready be to take a walk, the scene around to view.
The trees were leafless, and the ground was covered half with snow;
But what is that to human hearts with youth and love aglow!
We wandered up and down the road like children, hand in hand,
And talked about the future, and the life before us planned;
But while we spake the sound of hoofs upon the ground we heard—
Somehow my spirit to its depth by that same sound was stirred;
And closer Ruth towards me drew that slender form of hers,
As came the clanking of a sword whose scabbard clinked with spurs.
And talked about the future, and the life before us planned;
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Somehow my spirit to its depth by that same sound was stirred;
And closer Ruth towards me drew that slender form of hers,
As came the clanking of a sword whose scabbard clinked with spurs.
We turned. A horseman was at hand, in gay apparel clad,
Upon his dark-green coat much braid and golden lace he had;
A man of goodly presence. He gazed curiously at each,
Then spake (thee knows we understand round here the German speech):
“Ah! Sie ist deine Schwester, Mann?”—at which I shook my head.
“So! deine Frau vielleicht? 'ne Braut! Sehr gut! Ein Schmatz!” he said.
Upon his dark-green coat much braid and golden lace he had;
A man of goodly presence. He gazed curiously at each,
Then spake (thee knows we understand round here the German speech):
“Ah! Sie ist deine Schwester, Mann?”—at which I shook my head.
“So! deine Frau vielleicht? 'ne Braut! Sehr gut! Ein Schmatz!” he said.
“There, that will do, friend officer,” in wrath was my reply;
“I feel not free, when thus thee speaks, to stand in silence by.
Pray go thy ways; we're peaceful folk, nor meddle thee nor thine.”
“Dat's zafe,” he said, “in dimes like dese; gleichwohl der Kuss ist mein!”
With that he bent to where she stood; but ere her lips he found,
I dragged him headlong from his horse, and hurled him to the ground.
“I feel not free, when thus thee speaks, to stand in silence by.
Pray go thy ways; we're peaceful folk, nor meddle thee nor thine.”
“Dat's zafe,” he said, “in dimes like dese; gleichwohl der Kuss ist mein!”
With that he bent to where she stood; but ere her lips he found,
I dragged him headlong from his horse, and hurled him to the ground.
He rose, and straightway drew his sword, and angrily he glared;
I thought my hour of death had come when he his weapon bared.
The veins upon his forehead swelled, and then his face grew white;
With rage that gave him double strength he raised the blade to smite.
And as it rose I heard a scream; Ruth rushed between us twain;
Fell terribly the keen-edged steel: my pretty dove was slain.
I thought my hour of death had come when he his weapon bared.
The veins upon his forehead swelled, and then his face grew white;
With rage that gave him double strength he raised the blade to smite.
And as it rose I heard a scream; Ruth rushed between us twain;
Fell terribly the keen-edged steel: my pretty dove was slain.
He shrank in horror; from his face all trace of color fled,
While I sank down upon my knees beside the pulseless dead;
And loud I cried, “A deed is thine which even fiends abhor!
Her soul shall rise and thine shall sink, thou bloody wolf of war!”
“Ach Gott!” he said, and spake no more; then, mounting on his steed,
Struck deep the rowels in its flanks, and rode in headlong speed.
While I sank down upon my knees beside the pulseless dead;
And loud I cried, “A deed is thine which even fiends abhor!
Her soul shall rise and thine shall sink, thou bloody wolf of war!”
“Ach Gott!” he said, and spake no more; then, mounting on his steed,
Struck deep the rowels in its flanks, and rode in headlong speed.
Ruth did not on the instant die, and, ere she breathed her last,
Soft cradled in my loving arms, her life-blood flowing fast,
There went a shudder through her frame, a glazing of the eye,
And then a lighting of her face, a glance at earth and sky.
So tenderly she murmured, with a loving look to me,
“Reuben! 'tis hard in youth to die, but sweet to die for thee?”
Soft cradled in my loving arms, her life-blood flowing fast,
There went a shudder through her frame, a glazing of the eye,
And then a lighting of her face, a glance at earth and sky.
So tenderly she murmured, with a loving look to me,
“Reuben! 'tis hard in youth to die, but sweet to die for thee?”
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We placed her in Friends' burying-ground; and, though we marked it not,
I could take thee to it in the night, so well I know the spot.
At home for many hours I lay—a stupor on me came;
The only sound that roused me up was mention of her name.
And then Friend Scudder and his wife, who stood beside me, said,
“Who does his living duty pays most honor to the dead.”
I could take thee to it in the night, so well I know the spot.
At home for many hours I lay—a stupor on me came;
The only sound that roused me up was mention of her name.
And then Friend Scudder and his wife, who stood beside me, said,
“Who does his living duty pays most honor to the dead.”
Three weeks had passed; it was the night at close of Christmas-day—
So the world's people name it—when, in all of war's array,
But silently and cautiously, a force at nightfall came
And seized what few bateaux there were; they took my skiff the same.
And then I knew the wrath of God was gathering round to fall
Upon the hireling Hessian force, and its commander, Rahl.
So the world's people name it—when, in all of war's array,
But silently and cautiously, a force at nightfall came
And seized what few bateaux there were; they took my skiff the same.
And then I knew the wrath of God was gathering round to fall
Upon the hireling Hessian force, and its commander, Rahl.
The spirit moved within me then; I sought out him who led
The soldiers in the battle, and thus to the man I said,
“Friend Washington, although thee knows that Friends are men of peace,
Who pray continual night and day this bloody strife may cease,
Yet it is given unto me that I should go this night
And cross the stream with these thy friends to guide their steps aright.”
The soldiers in the battle, and thus to the man I said,
“Friend Washington, although thee knows that Friends are men of peace,
Who pray continual night and day this bloody strife may cease,
Yet it is given unto me that I should go this night
And cross the stream with these thy friends to guide their steps aright.”
The general looked at me well pleased. “You meet us in our need;
The way is plain, but such a night our footsteps might mislead.
Get him a musket, Baylor.” But I quickly answered “Nay!
The carnal weapon suits me not; I have a better stay.
Unarmed I go before thy men when once the stream be crossed,
And, though the air be black with storm, our path shall not be lost.”
The way is plain, but such a night our footsteps might mislead.
Get him a musket, Baylor.” But I quickly answered “Nay!
The carnal weapon suits me not; I have a better stay.
Unarmed I go before thy men when once the stream be crossed,
And, though the air be black with storm, our path shall not be lost.”
They then embarked the soldiers, 'mid the blinding snow and hail;
They struggled with the driven ice, the current, and the gale;
And much I marvelled, as I gazed upon the piteous sight,
What men endure when in a cause that they consider right;
For nearly all were poorly clad to meet the biting air:
Some were half naked in the ranks, and some with feet all bare.
They struggled with the driven ice, the current, and the gale;
And much I marvelled, as I gazed upon the piteous sight,
What men endure when in a cause that they consider right;
For nearly all were poorly clad to meet the biting air:
Some were half naked in the ranks, and some with feet all bare.
And back and forth the boats were sent upon the watery way,
So long that when we all had crossed the sky was tinged with grey.
Right on we marched to Birmingham, a moment there made stand,
Then broke in two divisions which filed off on either hand.
One half, with Washington and Greene, the old Scotch highway chose;
The other took the river road—I went ahead of those.
So long that when we all had crossed the sky was tinged with grey.
Right on we marched to Birmingham, a moment there made stand,
Then broke in two divisions which filed off on either hand.
One half, with Washington and Greene, the old Scotch highway chose;
The other took the river road—I went ahead of those.
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Before we parted, some one came and said to Washington,
“The priming in the guns is wet; what now is to be done?”
“Then let them use the bayonet!” was his answer to the man;
At which a hum of confidence among the soldiers ran.
All filled with silent, stern resolve, they strode so proudly then,
I knew they would before the foe acquit themselves like men.
“The priming in the guns is wet; what now is to be done?”
“Then let them use the bayonet!” was his answer to the man;
At which a hum of confidence among the soldiers ran.
All filled with silent, stern resolve, they strode so proudly then,
I knew they would before the foe acquit themselves like men.
The sun arose, and still we marched, I somewhat in advance,
A voice cried, “Wer da? Halt!” I saw a musket-barrel glance.
“A friend,” I answered. “Freund von wem?” “A friend to Washington!”
The sentry fired and missed, and ran and cast away his gun;
For now behind me, pressing on, he saw our troops were near,
And in the distance on our left I heard Greene's forces cheer.
A voice cried, “Wer da? Halt!” I saw a musket-barrel glance.
“A friend,” I answered. “Freund von wem?” “A friend to Washington!”
The sentry fired and missed, and ran and cast away his gun;
For now behind me, pressing on, he saw our troops were near,
And in the distance on our left I heard Greene's forces cheer.
“Move faster there!” cried Sullivan, “or Greene will get ahead.
Press on and use your steel, my men; we have no need of lead.”
And on they rushed, I with the rest; through Water Street we swept,
While from a few upon our front some scattered bullets leapt.
Their outguard fled in sore affright, and one there dying lay,
His loaded musket by his side—his work was done that day.
Press on and use your steel, my men; we have no need of lead.”
And on they rushed, I with the rest; through Water Street we swept,
While from a few upon our front some scattered bullets leapt.
Their outguard fled in sore affright, and one there dying lay,
His loaded musket by his side—his work was done that day.
I saw the Hessian soldiers that were forming into rank;
I saw their mounted officers—could hear the scabbards clank,
As hither, thither, riding round, they drove their men in line;
And through them all, from each to each, went eager glance of mine,
Till in their very centre there I saw one on his horse,
His orders coolly giving, the commander of their force.
I saw their mounted officers—could hear the scabbards clank,
As hither, thither, riding round, they drove their men in line;
And through them all, from each to each, went eager glance of mine,
Till in their very centre there I saw one on his horse,
His orders coolly giving, the commander of their force.
I knew him! I could not forget! 'Twas he whose angry blow
Had smote my darling to the death; he should not 'scape me so.
I cast my plain coat to the ground. “Quaker, lie there!” said I.
“Yon is the son of Amalek! I'll smite him hip and thigh!”
And from the ground that musket caught, and o'er its barrel drew
A bead as fine as a needle's point: the ball his breast went through.
Had smote my darling to the death; he should not 'scape me so.
I cast my plain coat to the ground. “Quaker, lie there!” said I.
“Yon is the son of Amalek! I'll smite him hip and thigh!”
And from the ground that musket caught, and o'er its barrel drew
A bead as fine as a needle's point: the ball his breast went through.
The musket dropped from out my hands—a fellow man I'd slain;
My heart stood still, but presently I was myself again.
I leaned against a tree. A sound of cannon smote my ear,
A rattling fire of musketry, then silence, then a cheer.
I knew they had surrendered. Well, what if the place were won?
I turned and wandered to my home; my errand had been done.
My heart stood still, but presently I was myself again.
I leaned against a tree. A sound of cannon smote my ear,
A rattling fire of musketry, then silence, then a cheer.
I knew they had surrendered. Well, what if the place were won?
I turned and wandered to my home; my errand had been done.
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When Friends would have disowned me as a man of blood and sin,
Friend Scudder spake—you might have heard the falling of a pin—
“God knows His own wise purposes; who'd scan His ways must fail.
Who gave the Israelitish dame the hammer and the nail,
His wrath has fallen on bloody Rahl, on Sisera laid low;
And Reuben Comfort did God's work. In peace then let him go.”
Friend Scudder spake—you might have heard the falling of a pin—
“God knows His own wise purposes; who'd scan His ways must fail.
Who gave the Israelitish dame the hammer and the nail,
His wrath has fallen on bloody Rahl, on Sisera laid low;
And Reuben Comfort did God's work. In peace then let him go.”
Loud weeping on the women's side, and sobs on ours that day;
And no one there gainsaid his words, and no one uttered nay.
The brethren came and pressed my hand before I left the place,
And all the women, as I passed, looked pitying in my face.
So I went forth of man forgiven. I pray that God may be,
When sitting in the latter day, as merciful to me.
And no one there gainsaid his words, and no one uttered nay.
The brethren came and pressed my hand before I left the place,
And all the women, as I passed, looked pitying in my face.
So I went forth of man forgiven. I pray that God may be,
When sitting in the latter day, as merciful to me.
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