An ode, in honor of the Pennsylvania militia, and a small band of regular troops, under the command of Gen. George Washington; who in the depth of winter, in the year 1776, turned the tide of fortune against Britain, and repulsed her forces to the banks of the river Delaware. : [One line of quotation]

AN ODE, &c. I. NOW the foe had pierced far, Ireful, in vindictive mood, Where the mighty Delaware Pours his full reſounding flood.— II. All behind a bleeding ſoil— Every pleaſant ſeat laid waſte, Where the ſoldier rov'd for ſpoil, Or deflow'r'd the virgin chaſte. III. Now before in proſpect lies Pennſylvania's happy ſtate, Where the blooming arts ariſe, And the ſmiling Muſes wait. IV. Satan when from hell he came, Saw this new created earth, And with hate's infernal flame View'd its origin and birth:— V. Thus the Britiſh Chiefs, whom pain, And anger fills with keeneſt ſmart, When black malice ſwells the vein, Or pale envy checks the heart! VI. "Ha!" ſay they, "yon rebel race "Muſt recede o'er hill and plain, "And this ſoil ſhall yet embrace "Many a youthful warrior ſlain:— VII. "Many an aged hoary head, "Bare to winter's cloudy ſky, "On the ground ſhall make his bed, "And beneath the cold winds lie— VIII. "Maids ſhall mingle burſting tears "With the matron's heavy moan, "While her infant's life ſhe fears, "On the ſtormy mountains thrown!" IX. Savage and contemptuous foe! God ſhall diſappoint your hope— Neither tears nor blood ſhall flow On the griſly mountain's top!— X. For our ſons in noble rage, O'er their native Delaware Haſten quickly to engage, And turn back th' infernal war! XI. See in noble ſtrength of ſoul Philadelphia pour each band, As the waves of ocean roll In ſucceſſion to the land.— XII· Suſquehannah's patriot tide Sends her gallant markſmen forth, Darting from her rocky ſide, Thouſands of diſtinguiſh'd worth.— XIII. Fair Ohio gladly ſtem'd By the trading Indian ſwain: Monongahela ever fam'd For th' unhappy Braddock ſlain;— XIV. In compaſſion to the ſtream Of their ſiſter Delaware, Send the bounding youths that gleam Each in armour like a ſtar:— XV. Gallant youths! when you return From the field of hoſtile play, Annually a garland worn, Shall give honor to the day:— XVI. Woodland maids ſhall deck the ſcene, And your brows encircle ſtill With a ſprig of Ever-green From their native Laurel-hill. XVII. Say, ſhall ſtorms that rudely play Round the Allegany head, Give the warrior's bands delay, To the great achievement led? XVIII. No! the heav'ns enkindled flame— Fires that in the boſom beat; Thoughts of virtue and of fame, Lend the ſoul immortal heat. XIX. All along the journey vaſt, Bleak-wind hills oppoſe in vain; But the bleak-wind hills are paſt, And the warriors ruſh amain. XX. See from Tuſkarora's height, Bending to the eaſtward on, Thouſand bayonets gild the ſight, Or reflect the riſing ſun.— XXI. Now they meet the bounding flood; Hear the Britiſh cannon roar! See the Heſſian marſhall'd brood! Trenton crowns the diſtant ſhore. XXII. You have ſeen a mountain's brow, And the ſtreams that tumble thence, Mingling in the plains below, With a happy confluence:— XXIII. Thus the diff'rent reg'ments join Of militia from the ſtate, With the vet'ran troops combine, And for ſhout of battle wait. XXIV. Heroes pierce the wint'ry wave, Fluſh'd with valor every vein! Give to Heſſian chiefs a grave, On fair Trenton's bow'ry plain.— XXV. Fifteen hundred of that race, Slain in fight, or priſoners made, Doth the warriors' band embrace With a circling ambuſcade.— XXVI. When the news in New-York Town Sounded in the ears of Howe, Wrath gave wrinkles to his frown! And he made the infernal vow: XXVII. "Death ſhall mangle ev'ry joint! "Spoil the virgin—ſtab the male! "Dart the bayonet's gleaming point! "Ruin, havoc ſhall prevail! XXVIII. "See from Brunſwick quickly ſped, "Crimſon ſtandards fluſh the air! "Squadrons by Cornwallis led, "Quick to Delaware's banks repair!— XXIX. "Full revenge is mine to-day! (Then the bloody warrior ſaid) "And our loſs ſhall theſe repay!— "Rouſe the ſleepy cannonade! XXX. "Grenadiers—brigades of Heſſe, "Scale the bridged floods between— "In the war's tempeſtuous chace "Let your troops be foremoſt ſeen! XXXI. "Wipe the foul diſgrace away "Of your brethren, captive made— "Shew your German rage to-day! "And o'er heaps of warriors tread!" XXXII. Not ſo ſwift, preſuming chief! Ere thou leav'ſt the wood-crown'd plain, Many a mother ſhall have grief For her ſon in battle ſlain!— XXXIII. For an equal war is wag'd With the blood-ſtain'd ſetting ſun.— And the ſtrength of battle rag'd When the clouds of night came on. XXXIV. Now avails the warrior's ſkill— Stratagems attend the night When pale darkneſs clouds the hill, And but ſtars diffuſe their light. XXXV. What confuſion wildly roll'd— In each eye what looks were ſeen! When the early morning told Of our troops on Princeton's green! XXXVI. Now they tremble for their ſtores And their vet'ran reg'ments there: Diſappointment on them pours Her full urn of black deſpair! XXXVII. Now approaches what they fear'd!— Now the conteſt is begun! And the ſound of battle heard, Re-ſalutes the riſing ſun! XXXVIII. Now the ſoil is drench'd in blood!— Many a hero gaſping lies!— Shouts of men—artillery loud, Rend the wieldy, bending ſkies! XXXIX. Drench'd in blood, is Princeton's plain, (Where the Muſe that breathes the lay, Free from care and anxious pain, Sported many a ſummer's day.— XL. Little thought ſhe on that day, That her lyre ſhould yet be ſtrung From the tales of love's ſoft lay, To the deeds of warriors ſung.— XLI. Deeds of war, of which the green, On whoſe ſhaven brow ſhe ſtray'd, Is itſelf the hapleſs ſcene, And the gaſping hero's bed!) XLII. Bravely yet the day is fought— Vict'ry hangs in even ſcale.— Ah! ſweet heav'n! ah why that ſhot! By which the noble MERCER fell! XLIII. Oh ye Britons! inhumane! Why re-wound the bleeding chief? Cruel actions fix a ſtain On what valor doth achieve. XLIV. In the gallant ſtrife of death, See in ſtable columns move Fair New-England's ſons, that breathe Noble fire and patriot love.— XLV. To the right their ranks unfold, And firm proof of valor ſhew; While the Philadelphians bold, Pierce the centre of the foe! XLVI. Sons of valor—ſons of eaſe, Who on pleſure's lap were laid: Skill'd in arts that gently pleaſe— Soft and elegantly bred.— XLVII. But no depths of winter's ſnow Could the march of theſe repreſs— Braving every ſtorm that blows, With a vet'ran hardineſs. XLVIII. Such the power of virtuous thoughts— Kindling fame through ev'ry age: See them pour their ſteady ſhot, With a more than Lion's rage! XLIX. "Come, brave ſouls! ſuſtain that ſhock!" (Mifflin, gallant Mifflin ſaid; Firm as is the ſea-beat rock On the ſurging ocean's bed!) L. "Rifle-men, attack that flank!— "Pour your buſhy ambuſcade!— "See from many a ſhatter'd rank, "Britons on the field lie dead!!" LI. But at laſt I ſee the ſcale Of Britannia kick the beam! And the ſhouts of joy prevail Where the patriots' bayonets gleam! LII. See the Britiſh troops give way! To ſuperior worth they yield— While the ſpirit of diſmay Drives in carnage o'er the field! LIII. But the ſwift purſuit is o'er, And ſoft mercy heals the wound Of the fainting, who implore Mercy on the enſanguine'd ground. LIV. Who is this that guides their might? Gives to each brigade its place? And amidſt batallions bright, Steps with majeſty and grace? LV. Mild his eye—his look ſerene Placid as the evening ſun; Stately in his make and mien! 'Tis the noble WASHINGTON! LVI. Hail! renow'n'd, immortal Chief! Conqueſts on thy banners wait!— Bid the brooding ſhades of grief Fly from every happy ſtate! LVII. Fabius-like, thy name ſhall dwell Ever with immortal fame! And thy praiſe run parallel Even with great Scipio's name! LVIII. Whom reſembling, may thy age See the pride of battle ceaſe, And the war that fiercely rage Leave thy country bleſt with peace. THE END.