 | Songs at the Start |  |
14
A BALLAD OF METZ.
Léon went to the wars,
True soul without a stain;
First at the trumpet-call,
Thy son, Lorraine!
True soul without a stain;
First at the trumpet-call,
Thy son, Lorraine!
Never a mighty host
Thrilled so with one desire;
Never a past Crusade
Lit nobler fire.
Thrilled so with one desire;
Never a past Crusade
Lit nobler fire.
And he, among the rest,
Smote foemen in the van,—
No braver blood than his
Since time began.
Smote foemen in the van,—
No braver blood than his
Since time began.
And mild and fond was he,
And sensitive as a leaf;—
Just Heaven! that he was this,
Is half my grief!
And sensitive as a leaf;—
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Is half my grief!
We followed where the last
Detachment led away,
At Metz, an evil-starred
And bitter day.
Detachment led away,
At Metz, an evil-starred
And bitter day.
Some of us had been hurt
In the first hot assault,
Yet wills were slackened not,
Nor feet at fault.
In the first hot assault,
Yet wills were slackened not,
Nor feet at fault.
We hurried on to the front;
Our banners were soiled and rent;
Grim riflemen, gallants all,
Our captain sent.
Our banners were soiled and rent;
Grim riflemen, gallants all,
Our captain sent.
A Prussian lay by a tree
Rigid as ice, and pale,
And sheltered out of the reach
Of battle-hail.
Rigid as ice, and pale,
And sheltered out of the reach
Of battle-hail.
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His cheek was hollow and white,
Parched was his purpled lip;
Tho' bullets had fastened on
Their leaden grip,
Parched was his purpled lip;
Tho' bullets had fastened on
Their leaden grip,
Tho' ever he gasped and called,
Called faintly from the rear,
What of it? And all in scorn
I closed mine ear.
Called faintly from the rear,
What of it? And all in scorn
I closed mine ear.
The very colors he wore,
They burnt and bruised my sight;
The greater his anguish, so
Was my delight.
They burnt and bruised my sight;
The greater his anguish, so
Was my delight.
We laughed a savage laugh,
Who loved our land too well,
Giving its enemies hate
Unspeakable:
Who loved our land too well,
Giving its enemies hate
Unspeakable:
But Léon, kind heart, poor heart,
Clutched me around the arm;
“He faints for water!” he said,
“It were no harm
Clutched me around the arm;
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“It were no harm
To soothe a wounded man
Already on death's rack.”
He seized his brimming gourd,
And hurried back.
Already on death's rack.”
He seized his brimming gourd,
And hurried back.
The foeman grasped it quick
With wild eyes, 'neath whose lid
A coiled and viper-like look
Glittered and hid.
With wild eyes, 'neath whose lid
A coiled and viper-like look
Glittered and hid.
He raised his shattered frame
Up from the grassy ground,
And drank with the loud, mad haste
Of a thirsty hound.
Up from the grassy ground,
And drank with the loud, mad haste
Of a thirsty hound.
Léon knelt by his side,
One hand beneath his head;
Not kinder the water than
The words he said.
One hand beneath his head;
Not kinder the water than
The words he said.
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He rose and left him so,
Stretched on the grassy plot,
The viper-like flame in his eyes
Alas! forgot.
Stretched on the grassy plot,
The viper-like flame in his eyes
Alas! forgot.
Léon with easy gait
Strode on; he bared his hair,
Swinging his army cap,
Humming an air.
Strode on; he bared his hair,
Swinging his army cap,
Humming an air.
Just as he neared the troops,
Over there by the stream—
Good God! a sudden snap
And a lurid gleam.
Over there by the stream—
Good God! a sudden snap
And a lurid gleam.
I wrenched my bandaged arm
With the horror of the start:
Léon was low at my feet,
Shot thro' the heart.
With the horror of the start:
Léon was low at my feet,
Shot thro' the heart.
Do you think an angel told
Whose hands the deed had done?
To the Prussian we dashed back,
Mute, every one.
Whose hands the deed had done?
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Mute, every one.
Do you think we stopped to curse,
Or wailing feebly, stood?
Do you think we spared who shed
A friend's sweet blood?
Or wailing feebly, stood?
Do you think we spared who shed
A friend's sweet blood?
Ha! vengeance on the fiend:
We smote him as if hired;
I most of them, and more
When they had tired.
We smote him as if hired;
I most of them, and more
When they had tired.
I saw the deep eye lose
Its dastard, steely blue:
I saw the trait'rous breast
Pierced thro' and thro'.
Its dastard, steely blue:
I saw the trait'rous breast
Pierced thro' and thro'.
His musket, smoking yet,
Unhanded, lay beside;
Three times three thousand deaths
That Prussian died.
Unhanded, lay beside;
Three times three thousand deaths
That Prussian died.
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