Classic Poem

PART FIRST

1

When Sweden sent bold Minuit out,
With soldiers brave, and farmers stout,
To plant, prepared for peace or war,
A colony on new-world shore,
His ships into this river burst,
Upon this shore he landed first,
And, built of logs of hemlock wood,
Here was it his gallant fortress stood.

2

Christina, fort and woodland green
He named, in honor of his queen;
Christina, too, he named the stream
Which wandered by, with purl and gleam,
Till in the brown flood of the river
Its gentler waves were lost forever.
Here many a year that banner hung
Beneath whose folds the scald once sung;
Here, with his blue eyes filled with dreams
Of what wise science folly deems,
At night the Swedish soldier saw
In heaven fair Freya's distaff shine,
And, like a flame, great Odin draw
Across the north his beard divine.

3

But came a time when wrath did stir
The bosom of the Hollander,
And, like a toper from his dram,
Awoke to arms New-Amsterdam.
Between its burghers red and stout,
And the fair Swede of Tinicum,
Had rattled many a warlike drum,
Precursor of the coming bout.
But while from Scandinavian air,
Still echoed, like a trumpet's blare,
The sound of Lutzen round the world,
And Sweden sat with flag unfurled,
And o'er these far domains yet shone
The glory of Gustavus' throne,
The captains of New-Netherlands,
Drank down their ale with bloodless hands,
Nor sought to try their valiant flints
Against the haughty sword of Printz.
Dimmed now, however, was the fame
Which gallant Sweden then had won;
Less potent, with each passing sun,
The prestige of the Scandian name.
No more to godly strife marched forth
The bearded conquerors of the north,
But Stockholm's palaces of state
Re-echoed oft with revels late.
Gone was the great Gustavus now,
And on Christina's wayward brow
(Though child she was of genius true)
Irksome the cares of empire grew,
Till came a time when (none too soon,
For wreckage had her path bestrewn)
Lightly the daughter cast aside
The crown for which her father died.
And now—who knows what will betide?
So in the brain of Stuyvesant,
The gallant governor of Manhattan,
Was born a wondrous scheme to plant
Proud Holland's flag where now did fatten,
On many a rolling river-mead,
The sheep and cattle of the Swede;
And when, his spirit to inflame,
News of another insult came,
Of sons of Holland forced to bow
Before the haughty Northmen low,
He swore, by many a warlike sire,
Vengeance immediate and dire.

4

A chief as terrible was he
As ever led by land or sea.
Blue was the lordly coat he wore,
And bright with buttons down before,
And by his trousers, gay and wide,
Dangled a sword of temper tried
In battles fierce and memorable
Well had he fought, so ran the fable,
And many an insolent head laid low
When governor of Curacao.
There was it, by the tropic seas,
In combat with the Portuguese,
That he had lost the valorous leg,
Replaced, now, by a silver peg.

5

Extensive was the preparation:
Unprecedented the sensation:
 From morn till night,
 In raiment bright,
Strutted the warriors of the nation.
Keen were the weapons which they twirled;
Fierce were the oaths they from them hurled;
Never before, this side the world,
Was mightier host, nor huger ration
At last, with twice four hundred men,
And seven staunch ships, a gallant sight,
Beyond the wondering city's ken
Sailed Stuyvesant unto the fight.

PART SECOND

1

Over New-Sweden's gentle land,
Its fertile fields, its river strand,
Where dwelt, in many a peaceful home,
The children of the Baltic's foam,—
Whose fathers to these self-same shores,
With gleaming prow and brawny oars,
Old legends tell us once did roam;—
Over this land of loveliness,
This land which summer now did bless
With waters sweet, and fragrant air,
And all things bounteous and fair;
Ruled Rising, the new governor,
With men-at-arms perhaps three-score.

2

From Fort Christina's ramparts old
Floated his flag with aspect bold;
Listlessly, in the summer's heat,
Each stalwart sentry paced his beat;
Silent for many a year had been
Those cannon glowering o'er the scene.
Only when up the river came
Some trading Dutchman, full of wine,
How fiercely, threatening awful flame,
Frowned each and all along the line
Naught dreamed the jovial chief of ill
As, on this afternoon so still,
His glass with Malmsey he did fill.

3

Like meteor unforeseen and dire,
Hurled by a superhuman ire,
Came Stuyvesant upon the land;
Ere once his cannoneers did shoot,
Fort Casimer, with richest loot,
Fell low before his mighty hand;
Then, while his hosts with triumph burned,
He on Christina swiftly turned.

4

From fugitives, who bore the word,
Brave Rising had the tidings heard;
And strove his men, by day and night,
To fit the fortress for the fight.
Few were they at the drum's stern call,
A round or two had they in all,
And when the frowning battery old
Once had pronounced its challenge bold,
Silent each gun must stand and cold;
But when fair Sweden called to arms,
Welcome were toil and war's alarms.

5

With trumpets playing loud and fierce,
And glittering steel, the Swede to pierce,
And deafening drums, and gaudy flags,
And booty rich, which somewhat lags;
With war-ships gay and terrible,
Whose guns the strongest fort could fell,
Whose sailors, veterans of the seas,
The highest wall could scale with ease;
Taking all things their hands could touch
To Fort Christina came the Dutch.

6

 Loudly they laughed,
 Deeply they quaffed,
Fiercely was clutched each weapon's haft,
As, through the sweet September air,
When eve had hushed their trumpets' blare,
They saw the banner of the Swede,
Waving above the river reed.
But more than empty scoff and rant
Intended Peter Stuyvesant;
And, with the morning drum, was sent
A message from his lordly tent;
The salutations of the sender,
And summons to a swift surrender.

7

Arrayed in coat so blue and bright,
And trousers red, a gallant sight,
And bearing high an ensign white,
Went forth the messenger of truce;
Scarce could the summons have been heard,
Scarce time was there to bring the word,
When back he came, like a game-bird
Strutting, whose warlike ire is loose.

8

When he the governor addressed,
Bold Rising knew not what he meant;
And when he further spoke, expressed
Amazement at the fell intent.
Peace ruled on the South River's shore;
Wherefore did Holland threaten war?
But still, as to capitulation,
'Twas not the habit of the nation
Wondered the chief that he a Swede
Should ask to do so weak a deed;
Without the firing of a gun,
Before the passing of a sun.
No; to the head from whom he came,
A captain not unknown to fame,
He must return; and here should wave,
Forevermore proud Sweden's banner.
Thus spoke, with scorn, the governor brave;
Curt was his word, and curt his manner.

9

Then rose the hosts of Stuyvesant,
And batteries on the hills did plant;
And round Christina, through the night,
Blazed the invaders' camp-fires bright.
Fat were the swine they stole, I wis;
Fair were the maids they sought to kiss;
A land so bountiful as this
Not often lay before their sight,
Not often fell before their might.

PART THIRD

1

Silent, beside a silent gun,
John Rising stood, the governor.
Food for his soldiers there was none,
Gone was his powder long before
Hard fate. It was the fourteenth day
Since, all accoutred for the fray,
The hosts of Netherland had burst
Upon this valley, never cursed
Before by war and warrior's wit
Since Sweden's flag had sheltered it.
It was that day when, dark with shame,
To Sweden's shore should fly his name.

2

Uprose his eyes unto the spot
Where, like a beauteous sunset cloud,
The banner of his country shone.
To-morrow's dawn would see it not.
Upon his breast his head was bowed.
He heard the Holland trumpet blown.

3

 With arms and kit,
As did befit
Men who in glory's book had writ
Their names on Lutzen's field of blood,
His soldiers marched out of the fort,
And home to Gottenburg's far port
Were sent, across the ocean's flood.

4

Then all the fair South River lands
Lay low beneath the invader's hands,
And proud the flag of Holland flew
Above sad hearts to Sweden true.
But years of triumph were there few.
For England, conquering land and sea,
Soon brought the Dutchman to his knee,
And to great Penn's benignant hand
Was given this bright and goodly land.