Songs and Poems from the War of 1812 The Battle of Tippecanoe   Further Reading British and Canadian Songs British Poems American Songs More American Songs American Songs 3 The Battle of New Orleans, by Jimmy Driftwood More American Poems Miscellaneous Statements   Return to Songs and Poems Index

American Poems "Old Burial-places" by W.H.C. Hosmer Old burial-places, once sacred, are plundered, And thickly with bones is the fallow field strown; The bond of confederate tribes has been sundered– The long council hall of the brave overthrown. The Sac and Miami bowmen no longer Preserve at the door-posts unslumbering guard; We fought, but the pale-browed invaders were stronger; Our knife-blades too blunt, and their bosoms too hard.   "The Death-song of the Sagamore" by Andrew Coffinberry (shortly after the Battle of Fallen Timber) Yet at the foot of red Presque Isle Brave Me-sa-sa was warring still; He stood upon a large rough stone, Still dealing random blows alone; But bleeding fast–glazed were his eyes, And feeble grew his battle-cries; Too frail his arm, too dim his sight, To wield or aim his axe aright; As still more frail and faint he grew, His body on the rock he threw. As coursed his blood along the ground, In feeble, low, and hollow sound, Mingled with frantic peals and strong, The dying chief poured out his song.   "Battle of Tippecanoe" Bold Boyd led on his steady band, With bristling bayonets burnished bright. What could their dauntless charge withstand? What stay the warriors' matchless might? Rushing amain, they cleared the field; The savage foe constrained to yield To Harrison, who, near and far, Gave form and spirit to the war.   American poem after the Battle of Tippecanoe "Sound, Sound the Charge!" (author unknown) Sound, sound the charge! spur, spur the steed, And swift the fugitives pursue; Tis vain; rein in–your utmost speed Could not o'ertake the recreant crew. In lowland marsh, in dell or cave, Each Indian sought his life to save; Whence peering forth, with fear and ire, He saw his Prophet's town on fire. "The Tocsin has Sounded" The tocsin has sounded–the bugle has blown, And rapid as lightning the rumour has flown, That, prepared to defend our heaven-blessed soil, Our country to save and proud tyrants to foil, We submit without murmur to danger and toil. (fragment of a British song of 1812)   Kentuckian poem: "The Kentucky Volunteer: By A Lady" And who supplies the murderous steel? And who prepares the base reward That wakes to deeds of desperate zeal The fury of each slumbering horde? From Britain comes each fatal blow; From Britain, still our deadliest foe. Kentuckian song: "Remember the Raisin" How dread was the conflict, how bloody the fray, Told the banks of the Raisin at the dawn of day; While the gush from the wounds of the dying and dead Had thaw'd for the warrior a snow-sheeted bed. But where is the pride that a soldier can feel, To temper with mercy the wrath of the steel, While Procter, victorious, denies to the brave Who had fallen in battle, the gift of a grave?