With all the highest attributes of Virtue,—
Thy fairest image would have fallen short
From this embodiment of guardian-angel,
Who healed my wounds, soothed my captivity,
Defied the tyrant's wrath, and saving me
From cruel torture and disgraceful end,
Restored me safely to my countrymen,
Whose fate, whose death she is prepared to share.
Crockett.
Fair Lady! David Crockett, who not once
In all his life has bowed to man or woman,
Here lays his fame, his triumphs at thy feet.
Confessing him outdone by thee in all
His boldest courage ever could conceive.
Compared to thy heroic fortitude,
The honor even to have sat in Congress
Sinks into nought; I shall no longer boast it.
Col. Wm, Travis.
Beside my brother, has my gallant bride
A precious trophy brought with her, this sabre
Of Santa Anna, wrested from his side.
Crockett.
This is his sword?—Oh, glorious prophecy,
Whose meaning e'en the blindest eye can see,
Whose speaking promise heralds Heaven's decree
