"Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew, / Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few"
— Wilson, Alexander (1766-1813)
Date
[1805?] 1810, 1812, 1818
Metaphor
"Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew, / Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few"
Metaphor in Context
Now up green banks, through level fields of grass
With heavy hearts the fatal spot we pass,
Where Indian rage prevailed, by murder fired,
And warriors brave by savage hands expired;
Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew,
Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few;
While screams of horror[1] pierced the midnight wood,
And the dire axe drank deep of human blood.
Obscured with mud, and drenched with soaking rain,
Through pools of splashing mire we drove amain,
Night darkening around us; when in lucky hour,
Led by its light we reached a cottage door;
There welcomed in, we blest our happy lot,
And all the drudgery of the day forgot.
A noble fire its blazing front displayed,
Clean shelves of dazzling pewter round arrayed,
Where rows of ruddy apples, ranged with care,
With grateful fragrance filled the balmy air;
Our bard (chief orator in times like these,)
Though frank, yet diffident, and fond to please,
In broken German joked with all around,
Told who we were, from whence and whither bound;
The cottage group a ready opening made,
And "welcome friends," the little Dutchman said.
Well pleased, our guns and knapsacks we resigned,
Th'adjoining pump or running stream to find;
There washed our boots, and entering, took our seat,
Stript to the trousers in the glowing heat.
The mindful matron spread her table near,
Smoking with meat, and filled with plenteous cheer;
And, supper o'er, brought forth and handed round
A massy bowl with mellow apples crowned;
For all our wants a mother's care expressed,
And pressed us oft, and picked us out the best;
But Duncan smiled, and often seemed to seek
More tempting fruit in Susan's glowing cheek;
Where such sweet innocence and meekness lay
As fairly stole our pilot's heart away:
He tried each art the evening to prolong,
And cheered the passing moments with a song,
So sadly tender, with such feelings raised,
That all but Susan with profusion praised;
She from his glance oft turned her glistening eye,
And paid in tears and many a stifled sigh.
With heavy hearts the fatal spot we pass,
Where Indian rage prevailed, by murder fired,
And warriors brave by savage hands expired;
Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew,
Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few;
While screams of horror[1] pierced the midnight wood,
And the dire axe drank deep of human blood.
Obscured with mud, and drenched with soaking rain,
Through pools of splashing mire we drove amain,
Night darkening around us; when in lucky hour,
Led by its light we reached a cottage door;
There welcomed in, we blest our happy lot,
And all the drudgery of the day forgot.
A noble fire its blazing front displayed,
Clean shelves of dazzling pewter round arrayed,
Where rows of ruddy apples, ranged with care,
With grateful fragrance filled the balmy air;
Our bard (chief orator in times like these,)
Though frank, yet diffident, and fond to please,
In broken German joked with all around,
Told who we were, from whence and whither bound;
The cottage group a ready opening made,
And "welcome friends," the little Dutchman said.
Well pleased, our guns and knapsacks we resigned,
Th'adjoining pump or running stream to find;
There washed our boots, and entering, took our seat,
Stript to the trousers in the glowing heat.
The mindful matron spread her table near,
Smoking with meat, and filled with plenteous cheer;
And, supper o'er, brought forth and handed round
A massy bowl with mellow apples crowned;
For all our wants a mother's care expressed,
And pressed us oft, and picked us out the best;
But Duncan smiled, and often seemed to seek
More tempting fruit in Susan's glowing cheek;
Where such sweet innocence and meekness lay
As fairly stole our pilot's heart away:
He tried each art the evening to prolong,
And cheered the passing moments with a song,
So sadly tender, with such feelings raised,
That all but Susan with profusion praised;
She from his glance oft turned her glistening eye,
And paid in tears and many a stifled sigh.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "heart" and "iron" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Serialized in The Port Folio in 1810 and 1812. I find references to an 1805 imprint (Philadelphia) but cannot confirm the publication.
See The Foresters: a Poem, Descriptive of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara, in the Autumn Of 1804 (Newtown, PA: S. Siegfried & J. Wilson,1818). <Link to Hathi Trust>
The Foresters. Description of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara, in the Autumn of 1804 (Westchester, PA: Printed by Joseph Painter, 1838).<Link to Google Books>
Text from The Poems and Literary Prose of Alexander Wilson for the First Time Fully Collected and Compared With the Original and Early Editions, ed. by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart (Paisley: Alex. Gardner, 1876).
See The Foresters: a Poem, Descriptive of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara, in the Autumn Of 1804 (Newtown, PA: S. Siegfried & J. Wilson,1818). <Link to Hathi Trust>
The Foresters. Description of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara, in the Autumn of 1804 (Westchester, PA: Printed by Joseph Painter, 1838).<Link to Google Books>
Text from The Poems and Literary Prose of Alexander Wilson for the First Time Fully Collected and Compared With the Original and Early Editions, ed. by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart (Paisley: Alex. Gardner, 1876).
Date of Entry
06/07/2005
