Downing legends : stories in rhyme / J. W. DeForest [electronic text]

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This planet hath no fairer sight Than men who march in ranks aright, Responding to the drummer's beat

With measured tread of sounding feet, Their shining arms at even slant And not a visage turned askant, The column straight from front to rear And angled like a shapely pier, As though a granite wall should come Along the ways to sound of drum.

So marched the scarlet-coated men Who sought the Shiloh Lion's den; While tory horse in careless ranks Patrolled the van, the rear, the flanks; And, far in advance, loosely strayed Six braves to watch for ambuscade.

Some yards before the musketeers A fiery courser pricked his ears And stamped the earthly ways in scorn As though he were a steed of Morn Who longed to set his wings a-flare And transverse avenues of air. This charger lightly bore along The chief of all the martial throng, A gracious youth of noble mould In brave attire of red and gold, Whose lilied cheek and flaxen curls Reminded one of youngling girls. A noble youth he surely was, Who dearly loved his country's cause, And loved his king with reverence, Nor dreaded death in their defence; Who also loved his ancient name, And longed to give it statelier fame

Than any that his sires had won Crusading 'neath Judean sun; And therefore loved the trumpet's bray, The battle set in proud array, The volley's crash, the cannonade, The gleam of bayonet and blade.