The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

Anon a silence fell; and then
The giant Enemy of men
Arose with pipe in hand, and blew
A rune that pierced the forest through
With melody grotesque and shrill,
Yet sweet enough to bow the will,
To fire the blood and turn the brain,
To make a man forget his pain,
Or joy, forget his natal sod,
His very name, his very God.

Our hero marveled much to weet

[_]

To wit; to know; to note.

A note so ravishing and sweet,
So otherwise from all that he
Had thought infernal tunes to be;
And, harking still, he felt a strong
Desire to join the warlock throng,
And bow before the devil's throne,
And dance, although he danced alone.
How think of duty, think of shame,
How care for honor's haught acclaim,
For altars, fires and native land,
Or seraph choir, or sainted band,

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When trills of demon music stole
From bar to bar of all the soul?
When earth and Eblis listened mute
To Lucifer's beguiling flute?

But halting yet in ways of guilt,
He chanced to touch his sabre's hilt.
The touch was magical; once more
He heard Columbia's battle roar;
He heard through smoke of volleying guns
Undaunted Freedom call her sons,
The drummer's roll, the bugler's peal,
The hissing ball, the clashing steel;
He heard them clear, he heard them all,
And answered back the glorious call.
The fighting blood of a valiant race
Rolled flaming through his farmer face;
He drew his blade and forth he ran
To die perchance, but die a man.