Night o'er the Santee! up the sky The pale moon went with misty eye; And in the west a brooding cloud- Departed day's wind-lifted shroud- Waved slowly in the depths of blue, While now and then a world looked through The broken edge, as from above Steals down a seraph's glance of love, Through sorrow's cloud and mortal air, On breaking hearts or tearful prayer.

Within the recess of the wood That on the river's margin stood, Encamped beneath the shade Of solemn pine and cypress tree, And tulip soaring high and free, A patriot band had made Their pillows of the moss and leaves, Through which the moaning south-wind grieves When day forsakes the glade. And all save one slept hushed as night Beneath the starry Infinite- That one a boy in years, Whose daring arm and flashing eye, When death and danger hovered nigh, Belied the trembling fears And shrinking dread that seemed to speak, From quivering lip and pallid cheek At sight of war's array; The first the fearful strife to bide, Forever at his captain's side, Was Lennard in the fray; Yet strange to tell, though oft beside That captain's form he dared to bide The cannon's fiery blast, His hand no human blood had shed, Beneath his steel no foe had bled, When in the battle cast. So said his comrades tried and cold, Who marveled that a heart so bold, Should beat in pitying breast. And now beside the smouldering fire, He marked its flickering flames expire, And watched his leader's rest.

That leader-in the civil strife Then waged for Liberty and Life, No braver spirit stood, Between his country and the chain, Mistaken tyranny would fain Have cast o'er lake and wood; And though in manhood's early morn, Young Huon led through strife and scorn A trusty troop and free, Who left their homes his lot to share, For Freedom sworn to live and dare, Or die-at Fate's decree; And from the covert solitude Of dark morass and thicket rude Guerilla warfare waged, On Tory band, unwary foe, And struck full many a dauntless blow, While hate and conflict raged.