 | Selected poems by William J. Grayson |  |
II.—THE MUSTER
Who boldly now, with iron will,
The bloody game yet dare to play?
What noble band, unconquered still,
Uphold the fortunes of the day?
Not theirs the pomp and proud array
Of host by king or princes led,
With flaunting plume and banner gay,
Of silk enwrought with golden thread.
The bloody game yet dare to play?
What noble band, unconquered still,
Uphold the fortunes of the day?
Not theirs the pomp and proud array
Of host by king or princes led,
With flaunting plume and banner gay,
Of silk enwrought with golden thread.
For them no canvas tent is spread,
Their camp, the tree, the earth, the sky;
The friendly forest gives them bread,
Their thirst the passing brooks supply.
Their camp, the tree, the earth, the sky;
The friendly forest gives them bread,
Their thirst the passing brooks supply.
To distant wood or swamp they hie,
The secret gathering to meet;
At fortune's call to fight or fly,
In fiery charge or sure retreat.
The secret gathering to meet;
At fortune's call to fight or fly,
In fiery charge or sure retreat.
With rifle true, on courser fleet,
What gallant hearts by brake or fen,
Yet quell the foe with daring feat?
The gallant hearts are Marion's men.
And he, the pale disabled Chief,
That from the leaguered town afar,
From din and stir of luckless war,
In solitude had sought relief,
Preserved by Providence to save
A people's cause, and lead the brave,
Who yet unconquered dared oppose
With dauntless heart their country's foes.
What gallant hearts by brake or fen,
Yet quell the foe with daring feat?
The gallant hearts are Marion's men.
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That from the leaguered town afar,
From din and stir of luckless war,
In solitude had sought relief,
Preserved by Providence to save
A people's cause, and lead the brave,
Who yet unconquered dared oppose
With dauntless heart their country's foes.
Of recent pain the pallid trace
Yet lingered on the leader's face;
But his the air, the martial mien,
The look resolved and yet serene,
In Nature's leader only seen—
His the broad forehead, amply wrought
For miracles of noble thought;
The swarthy cheek and eye of flame,
The active limb and iron frame.
Invincible to do, or bear
Cold, hunger, toil—in swift career
To charge, with rapid glance to see
And seize the chance of victory;
Or in declining fortune yield,
Yet save the honors of the field;
And merciful as brave, the blow
He warded from the fallen foe,
And nobly scorned in peace to wreak
His country's vengeance on the weak.
He made no wife nor children's need
The father's evil acts atone,
And lenient to another's deed,
He craved no grace to shield his own.
Not Arthur's knightly table knew
A knight more loyal, just and true,
Nor Saracen nor Christian bore
A lordlier heart on Syria's shore,
When Cross or Crescent rose or fell,
As warriors strove to hold or win,
With deeds that minstrels love to tell,
The holy towers of Saladin;
No Paynim there, nor Templar fought,
Of larger heart or loftier thought.
Amid the country's wreck his star
Still shone with clear unclouded light,
No mist could hide, nor tempest mar
The steadfast watcher of the night.
Serene it stood, to mark and cheer
The path in honor's bright career.
And with their Chief, a chosen few,
That dared the tyrant's rule abhor,
Dauntless, like him, and staunch and true,
Stood foremost in the ranks of war;
Yet lingered on the leader's face;
But his the air, the martial mien,
The look resolved and yet serene,
In Nature's leader only seen—
His the broad forehead, amply wrought
For miracles of noble thought;
The swarthy cheek and eye of flame,
The active limb and iron frame.
Invincible to do, or bear
Cold, hunger, toil—in swift career
To charge, with rapid glance to see
And seize the chance of victory;
Or in declining fortune yield,
Yet save the honors of the field;
And merciful as brave, the blow
He warded from the fallen foe,
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His country's vengeance on the weak.
He made no wife nor children's need
The father's evil acts atone,
And lenient to another's deed,
He craved no grace to shield his own.
Not Arthur's knightly table knew
A knight more loyal, just and true,
Nor Saracen nor Christian bore
A lordlier heart on Syria's shore,
When Cross or Crescent rose or fell,
As warriors strove to hold or win,
With deeds that minstrels love to tell,
The holy towers of Saladin;
No Paynim there, nor Templar fought,
Of larger heart or loftier thought.
Amid the country's wreck his star
Still shone with clear unclouded light,
No mist could hide, nor tempest mar
The steadfast watcher of the night.
Serene it stood, to mark and cheer
The path in honor's bright career.
And with their Chief, a chosen few,
That dared the tyrant's rule abhor,
Dauntless, like him, and staunch and true,
Stood foremost in the ranks of war;
Conyers, the flower of chivalry,
The first to charge, the last to flee;
James, with his sturdy brother band;
Bold Baxter of the iron hand,
And brave Postell, who never knew
Heroic deed too hard to do;
M'Cottry, of unerring aim,
Stern Witherspoon, of giant frame;
McDonald, prompt in every need,
As fiery as his matchless steed;
And skilled alike in feast or fray,
The scout by night, the fight by day,
The rapid march, the patient halt,
The ambush and the bold assault,
Horry, with stammered word, and blow
Like lightning, struck the flying foe.
The first to charge, the last to flee;
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Bold Baxter of the iron hand,
And brave Postell, who never knew
Heroic deed too hard to do;
M'Cottry, of unerring aim,
Stern Witherspoon, of giant frame;
McDonald, prompt in every need,
As fiery as his matchless steed;
And skilled alike in feast or fray,
The scout by night, the fight by day,
The rapid march, the patient halt,
The ambush and the bold assault,
Horry, with stammered word, and blow
Like lightning, struck the flying foe.
And many a gallant heart beside,
The chivalry of Marion's band,
Their Chief's and country's stay and pride,
When gloom and sorrow filled the land.
The chivalry of Marion's band,
Their Chief's and country's stay and pride,
When gloom and sorrow filled the land.
What, though the hostile trooper swept,
To mountain-top from ocean's flood,
And wife and mother raved and wept,
At daily scenes of tears and blood,
Undaunted still, resolved to dare
All risk, all loss, with latest breath,
Calmly they trampled on despair,
Their motto—Liberty or Death—
That once in burning accents broke
From Henry's lips, when foes amazed
Cried treason, as the speaker spoke,
And startled friends in wonder gazed
That, now, the leader's cap before,
Engraved a silver crescent bore,
The single emblem, stern and brief,
That spoke the purpose of the Chief.
The summer's anxious sorrows past,
With health restored and hope renewed,
He calls his troop, with bugle blast,
To wage the fierce undying feud;
While life endures, no foe shall stand
Unchallenged on his native land.
To mountain-top from ocean's flood,
And wife and mother raved and wept,
At daily scenes of tears and blood,
Undaunted still, resolved to dare
All risk, all loss, with latest breath,
Calmly they trampled on despair,
Their motto—Liberty or Death—
That once in burning accents broke
From Henry's lips, when foes amazed
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And startled friends in wonder gazed
That, now, the leader's cap before,
Engraved a silver crescent bore,
The single emblem, stern and brief,
That spoke the purpose of the Chief.
The summer's anxious sorrows past,
With health restored and hope renewed,
He calls his troop, with bugle blast,
To wage the fierce undying feud;
While life endures, no foe shall stand
Unchallenged on his native land.
October's sky is calm and clear,
The breeze is soft, the balmy air
Steals o'er the senses like a spell,
Where Summer-lingering spirits dwell,
And leave us with a sweet farewell;
Sonorous, then, at early morn,
Is heard the sound of mellow horn;
It dies away, but as it dies,
Another and another rise;
They sweep along the forest side,
Across the river's winding tide,
By swamp and thicket, glade and glen,
The signal horns of Marion's men.
Prompt at the call, with fiery speed,
The yeoman mounts his hardy steed.
The saw's rough steel, a scanty store,
Supplies the sword the trooper bore;
The rifle and the hunter's gear,
The arms, the dress, the yeomen wear.
With heart untamed and courage true,
They seek the secret rendezvous,
In dreary swamp and forest, where
The eagle builds his eyrie nigh;
Far off the timid fold may fear
The terrors of his beak and eye;
No safety leagues of distance bring;
With sudden swoop he strikes his prey,
Back to his haunts on rapid wing,
The bleeding victim bears away.
Here, in their eyrie, watchful, too,
Bold flights the daring hunters plan,
And far and wide the foe may rue
The onset of the Partisan;
When mustering fast the yeomen make
The camp fires in the caney brake,
Led by the Chief, whose matchless skill
Held Victory subject to his will.
The breeze is soft, the balmy air
Steals o'er the senses like a spell,
Where Summer-lingering spirits dwell,
And leave us with a sweet farewell;
Sonorous, then, at early morn,
Is heard the sound of mellow horn;
It dies away, but as it dies,
Another and another rise;
They sweep along the forest side,
Across the river's winding tide,
By swamp and thicket, glade and glen,
The signal horns of Marion's men.
94
The yeoman mounts his hardy steed.
The saw's rough steel, a scanty store,
Supplies the sword the trooper bore;
The rifle and the hunter's gear,
The arms, the dress, the yeomen wear.
With heart untamed and courage true,
They seek the secret rendezvous,
In dreary swamp and forest, where
The eagle builds his eyrie nigh;
Far off the timid fold may fear
The terrors of his beak and eye;
No safety leagues of distance bring;
With sudden swoop he strikes his prey,
Back to his haunts on rapid wing,
The bleeding victim bears away.
Here, in their eyrie, watchful, too,
Bold flights the daring hunters plan,
And far and wide the foe may rue
The onset of the Partisan;
When mustering fast the yeomen make
The camp fires in the caney brake,
Led by the Chief, whose matchless skill
Held Victory subject to his will.
| Selected poems by William J. Grayson | |