English Narrative Poems Part 25

The cl.u.s.tered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

Round about them orchards sweep, 5 Apple and peach tree fruited deep,

Fair as the garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain-wall; 10

Over the mountains winding down, Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars,

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun 15 Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; 20

In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

Under his slouched hat left and right 25 He glanced; the old flag met his sight.

'Halt!'--the dust-brown ranks stood fast.

'Fire!'--out blazed the rifle-blast.

It s.h.i.+vered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. 30

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara s.n.a.t.c.hed the silken scarf.

She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will.

'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 35 But spare your country's flag,' she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came;

The n.o.bler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word; 40

'Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!' he said.

All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet:

All day long that free flag tost 45 Over the heads of the rebel host.

Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. 50

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 55 Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!

Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town! 60

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

GRANDMOTHER'S STORY OF BUNKER HILL BATTLE

AS SHE SAW IT FROM THE BELFRY

'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls[328];"

When I talk of _Whig_ and _Tory_,[329] when I tell the _Rebel_ story, To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.

I had heard the muskets' rattle of the April running battle[330]; 5 Lord Percy's hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still; But a deadly chill comes o'er me, as the day looms up before me, When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker's Hill.

'Twas a peaceful summer's morning, when the first thing gave us warning.

Was the booming of the cannon from the river and the sh.o.r.e: 10 "Child," says grandma, "what's the matter, what is all this noise and clatter?

Have those scalping Indian devils come to murder us once more?"

Poor old soul! my sides were shaking in the midst of all my quaking, To hear her talk of Indians when the guns began to roar: She had seen the burning village, and the slaughter and the pillage, 15 When the Mohawks[331] killed her father with their bullets through his door.

Then I said, "Now, dear old granny, don't you fret and worry any, For I'll soon come back and tell you whether this is work or play; There can't be mischief in it, so I won't be gone a minute"-- For a minute then I started. I was gone the livelong day. 20

No time for bodice-lacing or for looking-gla.s.s grimacing; Down my hair went as I hurried, tumbling half-way to my heels; G.o.d forbid your ever knowing, when there's blood around her flowing, How the lonely, helpless daughter of a quiet household feels!

In the street I heard a thumping; and I knew it was the stumping 25 Of the Corporal, our old neighbor, on the wooden leg he wore, With a knot of women round him,--it was lucky I had found him, So I followed with the others, and the Corporal marched before.

They were making for the steeple,--the old soldier and his people; The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the creaking stair, 30 Just across the narrow river--Oh, so close it made me s.h.i.+ver!-- Stood a fortress on the hill-top that but yesterday was bare.

Not slow our eyes to find it; well we knew who stood behind it, Though the earthwork hid them from us, and the stubborn walls were dumb: Here were sister, wife, and mother, looking wild upon each other, 35 And their lips were white with terror as they said, THE HOUR HAS COME!

The morning slowly wasted, not a morsel had we tasted, And our heads were almost splitting with the cannons' deafening thrill, When a figure tall and stately round the rampart strode sedately; It was PRESCOTT, one since told me; he commanded on the hill. 40

Every woman's heart grew bigger when we saw his manly figure, With the banyan[332] buckled round it, standing up so straight and tall; Like a gentleman of leisure who is strolling out for pleasure, Through the storm of sh.e.l.ls and cannon-shot he walked around the wall.

At eleven the streets were swarming, for the red-coats'

ranks were forming; 45 At noon in marching order they were moving to the piers; How the bayonets gleamed and glistened, as we looked far down, and listened To the trampling and the drum-beat of the belted grenadiers!

At length the men have started, with a cheer (it seemed faint-hearted), In their scarlet regimentals, with their knapsacks on their backs, 50 And the reddening, rippling water, as after a sea-fight's slaughter, Round the barges gliding onward blushed like blood along their tracks.