Since that day Mrs.
Motte has been classed among the most patriotic heroines of
the Revolution.
This is, perhaps, enough in prose, but the fame of Marion
and his men has been fitly enshrined in poetry, and it will
not be amiss to quote a verse or two, in conclusion, from
Bryant's stirring poem entitled "Song of Marion's Men."
Our band is few, but true and tried
Our leader frank and bold:
The British soldier trembles
When Marion's name is told.
Our fortress is the good greenwood,
Our tent the cypress-tree;
We know the forest round us,
As seamen know the sea.
We know its walls of thorny vines,
Its glades of reedy grass;
Its safe and silent islands
Within the dark morass.
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 guide the fiery barb
Across the moonlit 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.
Grave men there are by broad Santee,
Grave men with hoary hairs;
Their hearts are all with Marion,
For Marion are their prayers.
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