 | Tales in Verse for Young People |  |
75
THE SOLDIER'S STORY.
“Heaven bless the boys!” the old man said,
“I hear their distant drumming—
Young Arthur Bruce is at their head,
And down the street they're coming.
“I hear their distant drumming—
Young Arthur Bruce is at their head,
And down the street they're coming.
“And a very noble standard too
He carries in the van;
By the faith of an old soldier, he
Is born to make a man!”
He carries in the van;
By the faith of an old soldier, he
Is born to make a man!”
A glow of pride passed o'er his cheek,
A tear came to his eye;
“Hurrah, hurrah! my gallant men!”
Cried he, as they came nigh.
A tear came to his eye;
“Hurrah, hurrah! my gallant men!”
Cried he, as they came nigh.
76
“It seems to me but yesterday
Since I was one like ye,
And now my years are seventy-two—
Come here, and talk with me!”
Since I was one like ye,
And now my years are seventy-two—
Come here, and talk with me!”
They made a halt, those merry boys,
Before the aged man;
And “tell us now some story wild,”
Young Arthur Bruce began;
Before the aged man;
And “tell us now some story wild,”
Young Arthur Bruce began;
“Of battle and of victory
Tell us some stirring thing!”
The old man raised his arm aloft,
And cried, “God save the king!
Tell us some stirring thing!”
The old man raised his arm aloft,
And cried, “God save the king!
“A soldier's life is a life of fame,
A life that hath its meed—
They write his wars in printed books,
That every man may read.
A life that hath its meed—
They write his wars in printed books,
That every man may read.
“And if you'd hear a story wild
Of war and battle done,
I am the man to tell such tales,
And you shall now have one.
Of war and battle done,
I am the man to tell such tales,
And you shall now have one.
77
“In every quarter of the globe
I've fought—by sea, by land;
And scarce for five-and-fifty years
Was the musket from my hand.
I've fought—by sea, by land;
And scarce for five-and-fifty years
Was the musket from my hand.
“But the bloodiest wars, and fiercest too,
That were waged on any shore,
Were those in which my strength was spent,
In the country of Mysore.
That were waged on any shore,
Were those in which my strength was spent,
In the country of Mysore.
“And oh! what a fearful, deadly clime
Is that of the Indian land,
Where the burning sun shines fiercely down
On the hot and fiery sand!
Is that of the Indian land,
Where the burning sun shines fiercely down
On the hot and fiery sand!
“The life of man seems little worth,
And his arm hath little power;
His very soul within him dies,
As dies a broken flower.
And his arm hath little power;
His very soul within him dies,
As dies a broken flower.
“Yet spite of this was India made
As for a kingly throne;
There gold is plentiful as dust,
As sand the diamond stone;
As for a kingly throne;
There gold is plentiful as dust,
As sand the diamond stone;
78
“And like a temple is each house,
Silk-curtained from the sun;
And every man has twenty slaves,
Who at his bidding run.
Silk-curtained from the sun;
And every man has twenty slaves,
Who at his bidding run.
“He rides on the lordly elephant,
In solemn pomp;—and there
They hunt the gold-striped tiger,
As here they hunt the hare.
In solemn pomp;—and there
They hunt the gold-striped tiger,
As here they hunt the hare.
“Yet it is a dreadful clime! and we
Up in the country far
Were sent—we were two thousand men—
In a disastrous war.
Up in the country far
Were sent—we were two thousand men—
In a disastrous war.
“The soldiers died in the companies
As if the plague had been;
And soon in every twenty men
The dead were seventeen.
As if the plague had been;
And soon in every twenty men
The dead were seventeen.
“We went to storm a fort of mud—
And yet the place was strong—
Three thousand men were guarding it,
And they had kept it long.
And yet the place was strong—
Three thousand men were guarding it,
And they had kept it long.
79
“We were in all three hundred souls,
Feeble, and worn, and wan;
Like walking spectres of the tomb,
Was every living man.
Feeble, and worn, and wan;
Like walking spectres of the tomb,
Was every living man.
“Yet Arthur Bruce, now standing there,
With the ensign of his band,
Reminds me of a gallant youth,
Who fought at my right hand.
With the ensign of his band,
Reminds me of a gallant youth,
Who fought at my right hand.
“Scarce five-and-twenty years of age,
And feeble as the rest,
Yet with the bearing of a king,
That a noble soul expressed.
And feeble as the rest,
Yet with the bearing of a king,
That a noble soul expressed.
“But a silent grief was in his eye,
And oft his noble frame
Shook like a quivering aspen leaf,
And his colour went and came.
And oft his noble frame
Shook like a quivering aspen leaf,
And his colour went and came.
“He marched by my side for seven days,
Most patient of our band;
And night and day he ever kept
Our standard in his hand.
Most patient of our band;
And night and day he ever kept
Our standard in his hand.
80
“They fought with us like tigers,
Before that fort of mud;
And all around the burning sands
Were as a marsh with blood.
Before that fort of mud;
And all around the burning sands
Were as a marsh with blood.
“We watched that young man—he to us
Was as a kindling hope;
We saw him pressing on and on,
Bearing the standard up.
Was as a kindling hope;
We saw him pressing on and on,
Bearing the standard up.
“At length it for a moment veered—
A ball had struck his hand,
But he seized the banner with his left,
Without a moment's stand.
A ball had struck his hand,
But he seized the banner with his left,
Without a moment's stand.
“He mounted upward to the wall;
He waved the standard high—
But then another smote him!—
And the captain standing by
He waved the standard high—
But then another smote him!—
And the captain standing by
“Said, ‘Of this gallant youth take care,
He hath won for us the day!’
I and my comrades took him up,
And bore him thence away.
He hath won for us the day!’
I and my comrades took him up,
And bore him thence away.
81
“There was no tree about the place,
So 'neath the fortress' shade
We carried him, and carefully
Upon the red sand laid.
So 'neath the fortress' shade
We carried him, and carefully
Upon the red sand laid.
“I took the feather from my cap,
To fan his burning cheek;
I gave him water, drop by drop,
And prayed that he would speak.
To fan his burning cheek;
I gave him water, drop by drop,
And prayed that he would speak.
“At length he said, ‘Mine hour is come!
My soldier-name is bright;
But a pang there is within my soul,
That hath wrung me day and night:
My soldier-name is bright;
But a pang there is within my soul,
That hath wrung me day and night:
“‘I left my mother's home without
Her blessing;—she doth mourn,
Doth weep for me with bitter tears—
I never can return!
Her blessing;—she doth mourn,
Doth weep for me with bitter tears—
I never can return!
“‘This bowed mine eagle spirit down,
This robbed mine eye of rest;
I left her widowed and alone:—
Oh! that I had been blessed!’
This robbed mine eye of rest;
I left her widowed and alone:—
Oh! that I had been blessed!’
82
“No more he said—he closed his eyes,
And yet he died not then;
He lived till the morrow morning came,
But he never spoke again.”
And yet he died not then;
He lived till the morrow morning came,
But he never spoke again.”
This tale the veteran soldier told,
Upon a summer's day;—
The boys came merrily down the street,
But they all went sad away.
Upon a summer's day;—
The boys came merrily down the street,
But they all went sad away.
| Tales in Verse for Young People | |