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THE GRANDMOTHER.
Away, in gay and gallant trim—
And then she would weep to think of him.

She can tell of Trenton's well-fought field,
Where many a fate was forever sealed—
Of Monmouth's bloody and fatal plain,
Where England witnessed her bravest slain.
She can tell of many a well-fought day,
When the starry banner led the way;
Of Andre's capture, his youth, his pride,
How bravely he lived, and the death he died.

And then her voice will grow deep and stern,
And her eye with a smothered fire will burn,
When she speaks of him who his country sold,
For a shining treasure of worthless gold.
And then she will smile to tell of those
Whose eyes were ever upon their foes,
From the tangled wood, from the deep morass,
Where none but Marion's men could pass.

Oh, many a history hath she
Who hath lived the life of a century!
Whose heart is tied with a golden thread
To the prouder stories of years long fled,
Whose generation hath nearly passed,
Who stands, of her kindred, almost the last;
For her children have left her, and gone before,
To the peaceful rest of the unknown shore!