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THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTON

When brave Van Rensselaer cross'd the stream
Just at the break of day
Distressing thoughts, a restless dream
Disturb'd me where I lay

But all the terrors of the night
Did quickly flee away
My opening eyes beheld the light
And hail'd the new-born day

Soon the murdering cannon's roar
Put blood in all my veins
Columbia's sons have trod the shore
Where the proud Britain reigns

To expose their breast to cannon's ball
Their country's rights to save
O what a grief to see them fall!
True heroes, bold and brave

The musket's flash, the cannon's glow
Thunder'd and lighten'd round
Struck dread on all the tawny foe
And swept them to the ground

I thought what numbers must be slain
What weeping widows left!
And aged parents full of pain
Of every joy bereft

The naked savage yelling round
Our heroes where they stood
And every weapon to be found
Was bathed in human blood

But bold Van Rensselaer full of wounds
Was quickly carried back
Brave Colonel Bloom did next command
The bloody fierce attack

Where Brock, the proud insulter, rides
In pomp and splendor great
Our valiant heroes he derides
And dared the power of fate

Here is a mark for Yankee boys
So shoot me if you can
A Yankee ball soon closed his eyes
Death found him but a man

They slaughtered down the tawny foe
And Britons that were near
They dealt out death at every blow
The battle was severe

Five battles fought all in one day
Through four victories stood
But ah! the fifth swept all away
And spilt our heroes blood

The tomahawk and scalping knife
On them did try their skill
Sound wounded, struggling for their life
Did black barbarians kill

Brave Wadsworth boldly kept the field
Till their last bullets flew
Then all were prisoners forced to yield
What could the general do?

Militia men! O fie for shame!
Thus you your country flee
Tis you at last will bear the blame
For loss of victory

When mild Van Rensselaer did command
You would not him obey
But stood spectators on the strand
To see the bloody fray

The number kill'd was seventy-four
Prisoners, seven hundred sixty-nine
Wounded, two hundred or more
Who languished in great pain

Some have already lost their lives
And others like to go
But few, I fear, will tell their wives
The doleful tale of wo.

Burton Stevenson's note prefacing the poem: "the capture of the 'Guerriere' had greatly encouraged the Americans, and General Stephen Van Rensselaer, in command of the northern army, determined to try another strike, at Canada. On October 13, 1812, he started to cross the Niagara River, with 600 men, but the crossing was mismanaged, the militia refusing to obey orders, and, after a gallant fight, lasting all day, the Americans were forced to surrender, to an overwhelming force, of British and Indians."