The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 9

Hoa.r.s.e voices sunk to whispers or were hushed; The rugged hills stood listening in awe; So dread the ominous silence that I heard The hearts of soldiers throbbing along the line.

"Up from yon battery curled a cloud of smoke, Shrieked o'er our heads a solitary sh.e.l.l,-- Then instantly in horrid concert roared Two hundred cannon on the Rebel hills-- Hurling their hissing thunderbolts--and then An hundred bellowing cannon from our lines Thundered their iron answer. Horrible Rolled in the heavens the infernal thunders--rolled From hill to hill the reverberating roar, As if the earth were bursting with the throes Of some vast pent volcano; rocked and reeled, As in an earthquake-shock, the solid hills; Anon huge fragments of the hillside rocks, And limbs and splinters of shot-shattered trees Danced in the smoke like demons; hissed and howled The cras.h.i.+ng sh.e.l.l-storm bursting over us.

p.r.o.ne on the earth awaiting the grand charge, To which we knew the heavy cannonade Was but a prelude, for two hours we lay-- Two hours that tried the very souls of men-- And many a brave man never rose again.

Then ceased our guns to swell the infernal roar; The roll and crash of cannon in our front Lulled, and we heard the foeman's bugle-calls.

Then from the slopes of Seminary Ridge Poured down the storming columns of the foe.

As when the rain-clouds from the rim of heaven Are gathered by the four contending winds, And madly whirled until they meet and clash Above the hills and burst--down pours a sea And plunges roaring down through gorge and glen, So poured the surging columns of our foes Adown the slopes and spread along the vale In glittering ranks of battle--line on line-- Mile-long. Above the roar of cannon rose In one wild yell the Rebel battle-cry.

Flash in the sun their serried ranks of steel; Before them swarm a cloud of skirmishers.

That eager host the gallant Pickett leads; He right and left his fiery charger wheels; Steadies the lines with clarion voice; anon His outstretched saber gleaming points the way.

As mid the myriad twinkling stars of heaven Flashes the blazing comet, and a column Of fiery fury follows it, so flashed The dauntless chief, so followed his wild host.

"We waited grim and silent till they crossed The center and began the dread ascent.

Then brazen bugles rang the clarion call; Arose as one twice twenty thousand men, And all our hillsides blazed with crackling fire.

With sudden crash and simultaneous roar An hundred cannon opened instantly, And all the vast hills shuddered under us.

Yelling their mad defiance to our fire Still on and upward came our daring foes.

As when upon the wooded mountain-side The unchained Loki[D] riots and the winds Of an autumnal tempest lash the flames, Whirling the burning fragments through the air-- Huge blazing limbs and tops of blasted pines-- Mowing wide swaths with circling scythes of fire, So fell our fire upon the advancing host, And lashed their ranks and mowed them into heaps, Cleaving broad avenues of death. Still on And up they come undaunted, closing up The ghastly gaps and firing as they come.

As if protected by the hand of heaven, Rides at their head their gallant leader still; The tempest drowns his voice--his naming sword Gleams in the flash of rifles. One wild yell--Like the mad hunger-howl of famished wolves Midwinter on the flying cabris'[E] trail, Swelled by ten thousand hideous voices, shrills, And through the battle-smoke the bravest burst.

Flutters their tattered banner on our wall!

Thunders their shout of victory! Appalled Our serried ranks are broken--but in vain!

On either hand our cannon enfilade, Crus.h.i.+ng great gaps along the stalwart lines; In front our deadly rifles volley still, Mowing the toppling swaths of daring men.

Behold--they falter!--Ho!--they break!--they fly!

With one wild cheer that shakes the solid hills Spring to the charge our eager infantry.

Headlong we press them down the b.l.o.o.d.y slope, Headlong they fall before our leveled steel And break in wild disorder, cast away Their arms and fly in panic. All the vale Is spread with slaughter and wild fugitives.

Wide o'er the field the scattered foemen fly; Dread havoc and mad terror swift pursue Till battle is but slaughter. Thousands fall-- Thousands surrender, and the Southern flag Is trailed upon the field.

[D] Norse fire-fiend

[E] Cabri--the small, fleet antelope of the northern plains, so called by the Crees and half-breeds.

"The day was ours, And well we knew the worth of victory.

Loud rolled the rounds of cheers from corps to corps; Comrades embraced each other; iron men Shed tears of joy like women; men profane Fell on their knees and thanked Almighty G.o.d.

Then _'Hail Columbia'_ rang the brazen horns, And all the hill-tops shouted unto heaven; The welkin shouted to the shouting hills--And heavens and hill-tops shouted _'Victory!'_

"Night with her pall had wrapped the b.l.o.o.d.y field.

The little remnants of our regiment Were gathered and encamped upon the hill.

Paul was not with them, and they could not tell Aught of him. I had seen him in the fight Bravest of all the brave. I saw him last When first the foremost foemen reached our wall, Thrusting them off with b.l.o.o.d.y bayonet, And shouting to his comrades, _'Steady, men!'_ Sadly I wandered back where we had met The onset of the foe. The rounds of cheers Repeated oft still swept from corps to corps, And as I pa.s.sed along the line I saw Our dying comrades raise their weary heads, And cheer with feeble voices. Even in death The cry of victory warmed their hearts again.

Paul lay upon the ground where he had fought, Fast by the flag that floated on the line.

He slept--or seemed to sleep, but on his brow Sat such a deadly pallor that I feared My Paul would never march and fight again.

I raised his head--he woke as from a dream; I said, 'Be quiet--you are badly hurt; I'll call a surgeon; we will dress your wound.'

He gravely said:

"'Tis vain; for I have done With camp and march and battle. Ere the dawn Shall I be mustered out of your command, And mustered into the Grand Host of heaven.'

"I sought a surgeon on the field and found; With me he came and opened the b.l.o.o.d.y blouse, Felt the dull pulse and sagely shook his head.

A musket ball had done its deadly work; There was no hope, he said, the man might live A day perchance--but had no need of him.

I called his comrades and we carried him, Stretched on his blankets, gently to our camp, And laid him by the camp-fire. As the light Fell on Paul's face he took my hand and said:

PART II

PAUL' S HISTORY

"Captain, I hear the cheers. My soul is glad.

My days are numbered, but this glorious day-- Like some far beacon on a shadowy cape That cheers at night the storm-belabored s.h.i.+ps-- Will light the misty ages from afar.

This field shall be the Mecca. Here shall rise A holier than the Caaba where men kiss The sacred stone that flaming fell from heaven.

But O how many sad and aching hearts Will mourn the loved ones never to return!

Thank G.o.d--no heart will hope for my return!

Thank G.o.d--no heart will mourn because I die!

Captain, at life's mid-summer flush and glow, For him to die who leaves his golden hopes, His mourning friends and idol-love behind, It must be hard and seem a cruel thing.

After the victory--upon this field--For me to die hath more of peace than pain; For I shall leave no golden hopes behind, No idol-love to pine because I die, No friends to wait my coming or to mourn.

They wait my coming in the world beyond; And wait not long, for I am almost there.

'Tis but a gasp, and I shall pa.s.s the bound 'Twixt life and death--through death to life again-- Where sorrow cometh never. Pangs and pains Of flesh or spirit will not pierce me there; And two will greet me from the jasper walls-- G.o.d's angels--with a song of holy peace, And haste to meet me at the pearly gate, And kiss the death-damp from my silent lips, And lead me through the golden avenues-- Singing Hosanna--to the Great White Throne."

So there he paused and calmly closed his eyes, And silently I sat and held his hand.

After a time, when we were left alone, He spoke again with calmer voice and said: "Captain, you oft have asked my history, And I as oft refused. There is no cause Why I should longer hold it from my friend Who reads the closing chapter. It may teach One soul to lean upon the arm of Christ-- That hope and happiness find anchorage Only in heaven. While my lonesome life Saw death but dimly in the dull distance My lips were sealed to the unhappy tale; Under my pride I hid a heavy heart.

"I was ambitious in my boyhood days, And dreamed of fame and honors--misty fogs That climb at morn the ragged cliffs of life, Veiling the ragged rocks and gloomy chasms, And shaping airy castles on the top With bristling battlements and looming towers; But melt away into ethereal air Beneath the blaze of the mid-summer sun, Till cliffs and chasms and all the ragged rocks Are bare, and all the castles crumbled away.

"There winds a river 'twixt two chains of hills-- Fir-capped and rugged monuments of time; A level vale of rich alluvial land, Washed from the slopes through circling centuries, And sweet with clover and the hum of bees, Lies broad between the rugged, somber hills.

Beneath a shade of willows and of elms The river slumbers in this meadowy lap.

Down from the right there winds a babbling branch, Cleaving a narrower valley through the hills.

A grand bald-headed hill-cone on the right Looms like a patriarch, and above the branch There towers another. I have seen the day When those bald heads were plumed with lofty pines.

Below the branch and near the river bank, Hidden among the elms and b.u.t.ternuts, The dear old cottage stands where I was born.

An English ivy clambers to the eaves; An English willow planted by my hand Now spreads its golden branches o'er the roof Not far below the cottage thrives a town, A busy town of mills and merchandise-- Belle Meadows, fairest village of the vale.

Behind it looms the hill-cone, and in front The peaceful river winds its silent way.

Beyond the river spreads a level plain-- Once hid with somber firs--a tangled marsh-- Now beautiful with fields and cottages, And sweet in spring-time with the blooming plum, And white with apple-blossoms blown like snow.

Beyond the plain a lower chain of hills, In summer gemmed with fields of golden grain Set in the emerald of the beechen woods.

In other days the village school-house stood Below our cottage on a gra.s.sy mound That sloped away unto the river's marge; And on the slope a cl.u.s.ter of tall pines Crowning a copse of beech and evergreen.

There in my boyhood days I went to school; A maiden mistress ruled the little realm; She taught the rudiments to rompish rogues, And walked a queen with magic wand of birch.

My years were hardly ten when father died.

Sole tenants of our humble cottage home My sorrowing mother and myself remained; But she was all economy, and kept With my poor aid a comfortable house.

I was her idol and she wrought at night To keep me at my books, and used to boast That I should rise above our humble lot.

How oft I listened to her hopeful words-- Poured from the fountain of a mother's heart Until I longed to wing the sluggard years That bore me on to what I hoped to be.

"We had a garden-plat behind the house-- Beyond, an orchard and a pasture-lot; In front a narrow meadow--here and there Shaded with elms and branching b.u.t.ternuts.

In spring and summer in the garden-plat I wrought my morning and my evening hours And kept myself at school--no idle boy.

"One bright May morning when the robins sang There came to school a stranger queenly fair, With eyes that shamed the ethereal blue of heaven, And golden hair in ringlets--cheeks as soft, As fresh and rosy as the velvet blush Of summer sunrise on the dew-damp hills.

Hers was the name I muttered in my dreams.

For days my bashful heart held me aloof Although her senior by a single year; But we were brought together oft in cla.s.s, And when she learned my name she spoke to me, And then my tongue was loosed and we were friends.

Before the advent of the steeds of steel Her sire--a shrewd and calculating man-- Had lately come and purchased timbered-lands And idle mills, and made the town his home.

And he was well-to-do and growing rich, And she her father's pet and only child.

In mind and stature for two happy years We grew together at the village school.

We grew together!--aye, our tender hearts There grew together till they beat as one.

Her tasks were mine, and mine alike were hers; We often stole away among the pines-- That stately cl.u.s.ter on the sloping hill-- And conned our lessons from the selfsame book, And learned to love each other o'er our tasks, While in the pine-tops piped the oriole, And from his branch the chattering squirrel chid Our guileless love and artless innocence.

'Twas childish love perhaps, but day by day It grew into our souls as we grew up.

Then there was opened in the prospering town A grammar school, and thither went Pauline.