Verse 1
The Rescuer of bold Burgoigne,
The Conqueror at Brandywine
What mortal power can stay
Or stand against his matchless force?
An envious stream retards his course,
The Skulkhill stops his way.

Verse 2
Thick planted on the adverse side,
To guard the interdicted tide,
And every ford secure,
The thundring implements of war
Th’ impracticable passage bar,
And make destruction sure.

Verse 3
Baffled by his inferior foes,
Shall Howe his conquering troops expose
To slaughter and defeat?
He must, unless some angel kind
An unsuspected passage find,
Ingloriously retreat.

Verse 4
That angel kind, in time of need,
Offers himself the troops to lead,
And thro’ the danger guard:
Nor prayers, nor promises coud move,
But He that doth his Country love,
His work is his reward.

Verse 5
Brought by a way they never knew,
Army and Chief their Guide pursue;
The secret ford is crost,
And twice ten thousand men pass o’re
For loyal Swanwick goes before
And saves the British Host!