On The Lake Expeditions

Where Niagara's awful roar Convulsive shakes the neighboring shore, Alarm'd I heard the trump of war, Saw legions join!

And such a blast, of old, they blew, When southward from st. Lawrence flew The indian, to the english true, Led by Burgoyne.

United, then, they sail'd Champlain, United now, they march again, A land of freedom to profane With savage yell.

For this they scour the mountain wood; Their errand, death, their object, blood: For this they stem thy subject flood, O stream Sorel!

Who shall repulse the hireling host, Who force them back through snow and frost, Who swell the lake with thousands lost, Dear freedom? say!--

Who but the sons of freedom's land, Prepared to meet the bloody band; Resolved to make a gallant stand Where lightnings play.

Their squadrons, arm'd with gun and sword, Their legions, led by knight and lord Have sworn to see the reign restored Of George, the goth;

Whose mandate, from a vandal shore, Impels the sail, directs the oar, And, to extend the flames of war, Employs them both.