10 ORATION. know of Isaac Davis; but they sketch a village hero. He hears the alarm-drum, and, making haste to obey the summons, as he leaves his house at Acton, he says to his wife, “ Take good care of the children,” as if the shadow of death fell even then upon his eyes. His company march to Concord to the liveliest of homely tunes, as little martial as the Spartan flute, which poets have loved to commemorate. He briefly reports to the commanding officer: “I have n’t a man that is afraid to go.” He claims the advance, and as he steps forward to meet the fatal bullet, a light glows on his face and kindles in his eyes, which his companions never could describe and never could forget. Who knows what visions were vouchsafed to him in that moment,—visions of independence achieved, of America triumphant —promises, it may be, of the greater glory yet to be ? When we read of such a death, we know what the poet meant when he wrote-— “ One glorious hour of crowded life, Is worth an age without a name.” It was a sad moment when his lifeless form was born to the presence of his bereaved wife. But as years rolled on, —as the news of Saratoga and Yorktown, of peace and victory, were carried to the desolated home,— who does not believe that grief was forgotten in joy and pride, and gratitude, that she
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