The evil implanted in man by nature spreads so imperceptibly, when the habit of wrong-doing is unchecked, he himself can set no limit to his shamelessness. — Cicero

Stories of American Life and Adventure - Edward Eggleston




Song of Marion's Men

Our band is few, but tried and true,

Our leader frank and bold:

The British soldier trembles

When Marion's name is told.


We have no fort but dark green woods,

Our tent's a shady tree:

We know the forest round us

As sailors know the sea.


With merry songs we mock the wind

That in the tree top grieves,

And slumber long and sweetly

On beds of rustling leaves.


Well knows the fair and friendly moon

The band that Marion leads,—

The glitter of their rifles,

The scampering of their steeds.


'Tis life to ride the fiery horse

Across the moonlight plain;

'Tis life to feel the night wind

That lifts his tossing mane.


A moment in the British camp—

A moment—and away

Back to the pathless forest,

Before the peep of day.

Adapted from Bryant.

Marion's Men
ONE OF MARION'S MEN