HOW CAPTAIN SWORD WON A GREAT VICTORY. Through fair and through foul went Captain Sword, Pacer of highway and piercer of ford, Steady of face in rain or sun, He and his merry men, all as one; Till they came to a place, where in battle-array Waiting to see which could best maintain And down the throats of their fellow-men It was a spot of rural peace, With happy words which she scarcely hears Such abundance feeleth she Of all comfort carelessly, Throwing round her, as she goes, And that, in some strange wrong of brain, Steady! steady! The masses of men Wheel, and fall in, and wheel again, Softly as circles drawn with pen. Then a gaze there was, and valor, and fear, And the jest that died in the jester's ear, And preparation, noble to see, Of all-accepting mortality; Tranquil Necessity gracing Force; And the trumpets danced with the stirring horse; And lordly voices, here and there, Call'd to war through the gentle air; When suddenly, with its voice of doom, Death for death! The storm begins; Cursing helps better-cursing, that goes We, who this mad-house must now go through, Till the drunkenness' self makes us steady of blood? [O! shrink not thou, reader! Thy part's in it, too; Has not thy praise made the thing they go through, Shocking to read of, but noble to do ?] No time to be "breather of thoughtful breath" Crashing their spurs, and twice slaying the slain. Charging down hill-hot, hurried, and mute! They loll their tongues out! Ah-hah! pell-mell! Horse and man they climb one another— Which is the beast, and which is the brother? Mangling, stifling, stopping shrieks With the tread of torn-out cheeks, An odor, as of a slaughter-house, Victory victory! Man flies man; Carved, and been carved, drunk the drinkers down, His trumpets blow strength, his trumpets neigh, All things present, in earth and sky, OF THE BALL THAT WAS GIVEN TO CAPTAIN SWORD. But Captain Sword was a man among men, Midst lights in windows and love in eyes, And ever the look of Captain Sword Is the look that's thank'd, and the look that's adored. There was the country-dance, small of taste; And then a table a feast display'd, All of gold, and flowers, and sweets, With wines of old church-lands, and sylvan meats, Yet all the face of the feast, and the voice, And heart, still turn'd to the head of the board; Forever the look of Captain Sword Is the look that 's thank'd, and the look that's adored. Well content was Captain Sword; At his feet all wealth was pour'd; On his head all glory set; For his ease all comfort met; And around him seem'd entwined And when he had taken his fill Clasp'd in dreams of all its best. ON WHAT TOOK PLACE ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE THE 'Tis a wild night out of doors; And thinks of angels in her prayers; Then sleeps, with his small hand in hers. Two loving women, lingering yet Ere the fire is out, are met, Talking sweetly, time beguiled, One of her bridegroom, one her child, The bridegroom he. They have received Happy letters, more believed For public news, and feel the bliss The heavenlier on a night like this. They think him housed, they think him blest, Curtain'd in the core of rest, Danger distant, all good near; Why hath their "Good night" a tear? Behold him! By a ditch he lies His tongue still thirsts to lick the rain, His legs and knees with all their strength, The wound that girds him, weltering there: ["I will not read it!" with a start, Ask'st thou why, thou honest heart? 'Tis because thou dost ask, and because thou dost start. "Tis because thine own praise and fond outward thought Have aided the shows which this sorrow has wrought.] ["I'll read no more." Thou must, thou must: In thine own pang doth wisdom trust.] His nails are in earth, his eyes in air, And "Water!" he crieth he may not forbear. ["No more! no more!" Nay, this is but one; "Water! water!" all over the field: To nothing but Death will that wound-voice yield. What holds he so close? - his body is rent. |