Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1844-01-26

the rebel host.
The gallant Lord Grey rules at their head.
HIS voice rings out clear and loud, upon the
frosty air.
"Root and branch, hip and thigh,cut them
down. Spare never a man-hecd never a
cry for quarter. Cut them down-charge
for England and St. George"
And then there was uplifting of swords,
and butchcry of defcncelcss men and then
there was riding over the wounded, and
trampling over the faces Of the dying. And
then there was the cry for quarter, and the
response
"To your throat take that, damned re-
bell"
There was a moment whose history was
afterwards written, with good sharp swords
on the vissage of dying men.
1t was the moment when the defcnceless
Continental sprang up from his hasty sleep
into the arms of the merciless death! 1t
was the moment when Wayne %groaned
aloud with agony, as the sod of Paoli was
flooded with "A pool of blood that poured
from the corses of the slaughtered soldiers
of his band. 1t was the moment when the
cry for quarter was mocked-when the rebel
clung, in his dispail, to the stirrup of the
Britishcr, and chung in vain. 1t was the
moment when the gallant Lord Grey, COM
municant of the True Apostolic Church of
England, educated in the faith of Jesus
schooled in the doctrines of mercy, h%alIooed
his war dogs on to the slaughter, and shout
ed up to the star-lit heavens, until the an
gels of God grew sick of the scene
cover them-ovcr them-heed never a
cry heed nevera voice! Root and branch
cut them down-no quarter J"
1t is "A dark and troubled night, and the
voice of blood goes up to God, shrleking
for vengeance! 1t is morning, sad and
CHASTITY morning, and the first sunbeams slime
over the field which was, yesterni.ht, IA
green meadow-thc field that Is now an
Aceldama-a field of blood, slrewn with
heaps of the dead, arms torn from the bod
turued to the earth, and buried in blood,
CHASTITY pictures of death and pain, painted
by the hand of Britain, for the bright sun to
shine upon, for men TO applaud, for the king
to approve-ior God to a%vcnee!
1t is a sad, "A CHASTITY morning, and Wayne
stands looking over the slaughtered heaps,
surrounded by tine little band of survivors :
and, as he gazcs on this scene of horror, the
voice of blood goes shrieking up to God for
ycngonnco, and the ghosts or The slain dark
en- the portals of Heaven with their forms of
woe, and their voices mingle with the voices
of blood.
Was the voice of blood answered?
A year passed, and the ghosts of the MUIR
dercd looked down from the portals of the
Unseen upon the rampartS Of Stony Point.
1t is still night, and the stars look calmly
down upon the broad Iluison; and in the
dim air of night tower the rock and fort OF
Stony Point.
The Brltishcrs have retired to rest. They
sleep in their warm. quiet beds. They SLEEP
with pleasant dreams of American maiden,
dislonored, and American fathers, with grey
hair dabbled in blood. They shall hav,
merricr dreams anon, | trow. Aye, aye.
All is quiet around Stony Point: the sen,
tinel leans idly over the wall that bounds hi,
lonely walk he gazes down the void ofdark.
ness, until his glance falls upon the broad an,
magnificent Hudson. lie hears nothing, h'
secs nothing.
1t is IA pity for that sentinel, that his eye
are not keen, and his glance piercing. IIa'
his oversight been but a little kccner, h,
might have seen Dealt, creeping up that ram
part in some hundred s..lapes-he might hav
seen the long, tailor-like, fingers of the Ske
lclon-God clutching for his own plump Bri
fish throat. But his e~yesight was not kee
: -more's the pity for him.
Pity il was, that sentinel could not hear
little whisper that went from two hundrc
tongues, around the ramparts of Ston
Point
General what shall be the watchword
And then, had the sentinel inclined hi
ear over the ramparts, and listened very at
! t~entively indeed, he might have heard tn
!, answer, sweeping up to the heavens, like
= voice OF blood
: 'REMEMBER PAoLIr
{ Hobo And so Paoli is to be remen
bered-and so the Voice of Blood shiieke
not in the ears of God in vain? And so Il
{ vengeance of Paoli is creeping up the ran
$ parts of the Fort? Hobo! Pity Lol
{ Grey we're not here to see the sport!
{ The sentinel was not blest with superna
5 ural sight oil hearing: he did not see figur
creeping up the rempart; he heard not the
whispers, until a rude hand clutched hi
d around the throat, and up to the heave
swept the thunderstorm
REMEMBER PAoLI!'
- And then a rude bayonet pinned him to Il
i wood of the ramparts: and then the espla
70 ade of the Fort, and its halls were filled wi
silent Avengers: and then came Bririshe
" rushing from their beds, crying quarter, IA
ID they got 1.-THE quarter Of Paoit
And through the smoke and the gloom a
~ the bloodshed Of that terrible night, with I
light Of torch now falling on his face, wi
u the CLEAN of starlight now giving a spect
Nc appearance to his features, swept ON, o,
IS heaps o fdead, one magnificent form, gra,
IL ing a stout broadsword in his right han
winch sternly rose, and slernly fell, cultl
!. Britishers down at every blow, and layi
VI them along the floor of the fort in the pud,
of their own hirellng blood.
'.' Ghosts of Paoli shout! Are ye not TEL