Her kerchief torn betrays the globes of snow
That heave responsive to her weight of woe.
Does all this eloquence suspend the knife?
Does no superior bribe contest her life?

There does the scalps by British gold are paid-
A long-hair'd scalp adorns that heavenly head;
And comes the sacred spoil from friend or foe,
No marks distinguish, and no man can know.
With calculating pause and demon grin,
They seize her hands, and thro' her face divine
Drive the descending axe: the shriek she sent
Attain'd her lover's ear he thither bent

With all the speed his wearied limbs could yield,
Whirl'd his keen blade, and stretch'd upon the field
The yelling fiends; who there disputing stood
Her gory scalp, their horrid prize of blood.
He sunk delirious on her lifeless clay,

And pass'd, in starts of sense, the dreadful day.
Are these thy trophies, Carleton? these the swords
Thy hand unsheath'd and gave the savage hordes,
Thy boasted friends, by treaties brought from far,
To aid thy master in his murderous war ?"

Capture of CORNWALLIS and his army. Their banners
furled and muskets piled on the field of battle.
"Cornwallis first, their late all-conquering lord,
Bears to the victor chief his conquer'd sword,
Presents the burnish'd hilt, and yields with pain
The gift of kings, here brandish'd long in vain.
Then bow their hundred banners, trailing far
Their wearied wings from all the skirts of war.
Battalion'd infantry and squadron'd horse,
Dash the silk tassel and the golden torse;

Flags from the forts and ensigns from the fleet
Roll in the dust, and at Columbia's feet
Prostrate the pride of thrones: they firm the base
Of freedom's temple, while her arms they grace.
Here Albion's crimson cross the soil o'erspreads,
Her lion crouches and her thistle fades,
Indignant Erin rues her trampled lyre,
Brunswick's pale steed forgets his foamy fire,
Proud Hessia's castle lies in dust o'erthrown,
And venal Anspach quits her broken crown.

Long trains of wheeled artillery shade the shore,
Quench their blue matches and forget to roar;
Along the encumber'd plain thick planted rise
High stacks of muskets glittering to the skies,
Numerous and vast. As when the toiling swains
Heap their whole harvest on the stubbly plains,
Gerb after gerb the bearded shock expands,
Shocks rang'd in rows hill high the burden'd lands:
The joyous master numbers all the piles,
And o'er his well-earned crop complacent smiles;
Such growing heaps this iron harvest yield,
So tread the victors this, their final field.

Triumphant WASHINGTON, with brow serene,
Regards unmov'd the exhilarating scene,
Weighs in his balanced thought the silent grief
That sinks the bosom of the fallen chief,
With all the joy that laurel crowns bestow,
A world reconquer'd and a vanquish'd foe.

He bids brave LINCOLN guide with modest air
The last glad triumph of the finish'd war;
Who sees once more two armies shade one plain,
The mighty victors and the captive train."