Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.

Southern States: Eutaw, S. C.

To the Memory of the Americans Who Fell at Eutaw

By Philip Freneau (1752–1832)

AT Eutaw Springs the valiant died;

Their limbs with dust are covered o’er,—

Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;

How many heroes are no more!

If, in this wreck of ruin, they

Can yet be thought to claim the tear,

Oh, smite your gentle breast, and say,

The friends of freedom slumber here!

Thou who shalt trace this bloody plain,

If goodness rules thy generous breast,

Sigh for the wasted rural reign;

Sigh for the shepherds, sunk to rest!

Stranger, their humble graves adorn;

You too may fall, and ask a tear:

’T is not the beauty of the morn

That proves the evening shall be clear.

They saw their injured country’s woe;

The flaming town, the wasted field;

Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;

They took the spear,—but left the shield.

Led by thy conquering genius, Greene,

The Britons they compelled to fly:

None distant viewed the fatal plain;

None grieved, in such a cause to die.

But like the Parthians, famed of old,

Who, flying, still their arrows threw;

These routed Britons, full as bold,

Retreated, and retreating slew.

Now rest in peace, our patriot band;

Though far from Nature’s limits thrown,

We trust they find a happier land,

A brighter sunshine of their own.