 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
261
THE VETERAN.
A STORY TOUCHING MIGHTY FEATS OF ARMS, WOUNDS, A CANTEEN AND A BRICK.
“Father, what means the frightful scar
That marks thy aged cheek?—
Is it the fruit of bitter war?
Does it of strife bespeak?
Or is it mark by Nature made,
In some eccentric freak?”
That marks thy aged cheek?—
Is it the fruit of bitter war?
Does it of strife bespeak?
Or is it mark by Nature made,
In some eccentric freak?”
“That scar, my son, did mark me long
Before you breathed the air;
Vigorous was I, and young and strong,
When that was written there;
It tells of scenes and times of which
I'll tell you when and where.
Before you breathed the air;
Vigorous was I, and young and strong,
When that was written there;
It tells of scenes and times of which
I'll tell you when and where.
“Our patriot sires had made a rule
That every mother's son
Should fully 'quip and arm himself
With powder and with gun,
And take the field on muster-days,
Ere he was twenty-one;
That every mother's son
Should fully 'quip and arm himself
With powder and with gun,
And take the field on muster-days,
Ere he was twenty-one;
262
“And every heart throbbed ardently
The mandate to perform;
We rushed into the strife of arms
With emulation warm,
And many a warlike breeze we raised,
And many a mimic storm.
The mandate to perform;
We rushed into the strife of arms
With emulation warm,
And many a warlike breeze we raised,
And many a mimic storm.
“Behold upon the kitchen wall
That old and rusty gun!
Full many a time the same I've borne
Till setting of the sun;
On training-days, you may depend,
Your sire was always one.
That old and rusty gun!
Full many a time the same I've borne
Till setting of the sun;
On training-days, you may depend,
Your sire was always one.
“'T was on a proud October day,
The sun shone clear and bright;
The lines were marshalled in array,—
It was a pretty sight;
The Bozzleton Light Infantry
Were ranged upon the right.
The sun shone clear and bright;
The lines were marshalled in array,—
It was a pretty sight;
The Bozzleton Light Infantry
Were ranged upon the right.
“The snare-drums beat their loudest note,
The fifes did shrilly play,
And banners waved upon the breeze
Of that great training-day!
A sham-fight was to be at noon,—
All panted for the fray.
The fifes did shrilly play,
And banners waved upon the breeze
Of that great training-day!
A sham-fight was to be at noon,—
All panted for the fray.
“And every eye flashed keenly bright
To meet the scene of pride;
The officers, in fixings fine,
Along the line did ride;—
Our canteens, I forgot to say,
Were plenteously supplied.
To meet the scene of pride;
263
Along the line did ride;—
Our canteens, I forgot to say,
Were plenteously supplied.
“And soon the order to begin
Came thundering down the line!
The enemy had taken post
Right opposite to mine;
The Bozzleton Light Infantry
Then opened on 'em fine!
Came thundering down the line!
The enemy had taken post
Right opposite to mine;
The Bozzleton Light Infantry
Then opened on 'em fine!
“An aged man, who, ‘up a tree,’
The conflict stern did view,
Vowed that it had not been surpassed
By aught since Waterloo,
Where, you will recollect, were slain
An everlasting slew!
The conflict stern did view,
Vowed that it had not been surpassed
By aught since Waterloo,
Where, you will recollect, were slain
An everlasting slew!
“We blazed away like blazes, and
Our muskets rattled thick;
The smoke and fire raged frightfully,
Our pulses travelled quick;
Now ‘charge!’ the word, and in a fall
Your parent hit a brick!
Our muskets rattled thick;
The smoke and fire raged frightfully,
Our pulses travelled quick;
Now ‘charge!’ the word, and in a fall
Your parent hit a brick!
“Insensibly inglorious
Upon the ground I lay;
They raised me from the battle-field,
And carted me away;
I was n't ‘tight,’ for I had drank
But ten times through the day.
Upon the ground I lay;
They raised me from the battle-field,
And carted me away;
264
But ten times through the day.
“Nay, do not thumb thy nose, my son,—
It is not well, forsooth;
The story that I tell to thee
Is simple, honest truth;
To doubt the word of reverend age
Is very wrong in youth.
It is not well, forsooth;
The story that I tell to thee
Is simple, honest truth;
To doubt the word of reverend age
Is very wrong in youth.
“And that 's the story of the scar
Which on my cheek you trace;
I 'd like to hear the villain speak
To brand it with disgrace,—
I 'd wallop him who 'd dare to cast
Aspersion to my face!”
Which on my cheek you trace;
I 'd like to hear the villain speak
To brand it with disgrace,—
I 'd wallop him who 'd dare to cast
Aspersion to my face!”
| Rhymes with reason and without | |