ation of the types
of errors which Simms was frequently subject to make. Many have most
certainly not been caught--if I had not lived in the Waxhaw area, I
certainly would not have known of the error (footnoted in the text)
which replaced 'Waxhaw' with 'Warsaw'--two very different regions. Names
are particularly prone to error, not only by Simms, but from the
whole revolutionary era in the South--many of the people were only
semi-literate, if literate at all, and many of the names have been
spelled several, even a dozen ways--sometimes even by the individual
named. For all this, the errors of Simms are generally minor, and will
not prevent the reader from a true appreciation of both Marion and
Simms.

Alan R. Light, Birmingham, Alabama. December, 1996.

Appendix B. Song of Marion's Men.

By William Cullen Bryant [1794-1878].

As this poem is quoted in part by Simms at the very beginning of the
book, I have considered it appropriate to include the whole here:

Our band is few, but true and tried,
Our leader frank and bold;
The British soldier trembles
When Marion's name is told.
Our fortress is the good greenwood,
Our tent the cypress-tree;
We know the forest round us,
As seamen know the sea.
We know its walls of thorny vines,
Its glades of reedy grass,
Its safe and silent islands
Within the dark morass.

Woe to the English soldiery,
That little dread us near!
On them shall light at midnight
A strange and sudden fear:
When, waking to their tents on fire,
They grasp their arms in vain,
And they who stand to face us
Are beat to earth again.
And they who fly in terror deem
A mighty host behind,
And hear the tramp of thousands
Upon the hollow wind.

Then sweet the hour that brings release
From danger and from toil:
We talk the battle over,
And share the battle's spoil.
The woodland rings with laugh and shout,
As if a hunt were up,
And woodland flowers are gathered
To crown the soldier's cup.
With merry songs we mock the wind
That in the pine-top grieves,
And slumber long and sweetly
On beds of oaken leaves.

Well knows the fair and friendly moon
The band that Marion leads--
The glitter of their rifles,
The scampering of their steeds.
'Tis life to guide the fiery barb