Chapter I

You ask your grandsire hoary
To tell you of the day,
When, in his lusty manhood’s prime,
To fight he took his way.

So here beside our cabin,
Deep in the Baptist Yale,
While sinks the sun within the west,
And light begins to fail—

Upon the lofty summit,
Before the set of sun,
I’ll tell you how by mountaineers
The battle-field was won.