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

Not every earthly sight can be
So clear as sights behind the eye;
Not every mortal man doth see
If this be true, or that a lie.
I think each human doth create
No little of this world of dole,
And shapes his daily life and state
Accordant with his fateful soul.
One meeteth ghouls and sheeted ghosts
And witches foul and murky sprites;
Another meeteth saintly hosts
And angel wings and Eden lights.
One findeth only bitter strife
And corpses stark and weapons bare;
Another, naught but peaceful life
And gladsome creatures everywhere.

So burly Downing, born for war,
And nursed on battle's smoke and flame,
Found earth a very different star
From her who bore his honored name.

136

No matter whither fared his girl,
She quickly won, as told above,
Some worshipper, perhaps an earl,
Who longed to save and serve and love;
While he, the hero, hero-like,
Met hazards numberless and dire,
Forever pushed to draw and strike
Through men and demons, blood and fire.

And now, yet panting from the broil
With Salem's wizard crew, he spurred
To save his threatened home, and moil
The British ranks and Tory herd.
The odds were huge, the peril light:
A coming nation nerved his arm:
A prototype of might and right
May front a host without alarm.