The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme The witch of Shiloh, the last of the Wampanoags, the gentle earl, the enchanted voyage |
 |
 | 1. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. | IV |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
| 33. |
| 34. |
| 35. |
| 36. |
| 37. |
| 38. |
| 39. |
| 40. |
| 41. |
| 42. |
| 43. |
| 44. |
| 45. |
| 46. |
| 47. |
| 48. |
| 49. |
| 50. |
| 51. |
| 52. |
| 53. |
| 54. |
| 55. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
 | The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme |  |
IV
So far the captain spake. But here
The hero thundered forth his sorrow.
The hero thundered forth his sorrow.
“Go tell the ginral, never fear;
I'll follow Ethan's trail to-morrow.
What! Allen gone, the peartest soul
That bore aloft our Yankee banners!
How oft I've heerd his curses roll
In battle's front, like glad hosanners!
How often laughed to see him roar
An' caper 'round a giant Briton,
Then smite him hip an' thigh before
I guessed the side he meanter hit on!
I'll follow him, and save him, too.
If he abides in airthly regions;
If not, I'll make it awful blue
In hell for Satan's murky legions.
I'll follow Ethan's trail to-morrow.
What! Allen gone, the peartest soul
That bore aloft our Yankee banners!
How oft I've heerd his curses roll
In battle's front, like glad hosanners!
How often laughed to see him roar
An' caper 'round a giant Briton,
Then smite him hip an' thigh before
I guessed the side he meanter hit on!
I'll follow him, and save him, too.
If he abides in airthly regions;
If not, I'll make it awful blue
In hell for Satan's murky legions.
“But first I ought to find the maid
Who keeps our Baldybird in trouble.
An' let her know that Gideon's blade
Can mow Apollyon's crap to stubble.
I've offen heerd of her afore,
Unless my memory's in error;
Her granther was a sagamore,
King Metacom, New England's terror.
I think (if she is young an' fair)
That Downing wouldn't like to hurt her,
But ruther feel disposed to spare,
An' do his peartest to convert her.
At all events, I'll scurry west
At once, to bag her, or to try it.
But now dismount an' take a rest,
An' try a Yankee farmer's diet.”
Who keeps our Baldybird in trouble.
An' let her know that Gideon's blade
Can mow Apollyon's crap to stubble.
I've offen heerd of her afore,
Unless my memory's in error;
Her granther was a sagamore,
King Metacom, New England's terror.
I think (if she is young an' fair)
That Downing wouldn't like to hurt her,
59
An' do his peartest to convert her.
At all events, I'll scurry west
At once, to bag her, or to try it.
But now dismount an' take a rest,
An' try a Yankee farmer's diet.”
The captain bowed. “I may not stay;
My duty is to bear your message.”
He bowed again, and rode away,
As swift as prairie horse-expressage.
My duty is to bear your message.”
He bowed again, and rode away,
As swift as prairie horse-expressage.
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |