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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419093" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Uncle Ned’s Tale: An Old Dragoon's Story</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I OFTEN, musing, wander back to days long since gone by,<br>And far-off scenes and long-lost forms arise to fancy's eye. <br>A group familiar now I see, who all but one are fled,— <br>My mother, sister Jane, myself, and dear old Uncle Ned. <br>I'll tell you how I see them now. First, mother in her chair<br>Sits knitting by the parlor fire, with anxious matron air; <br>My sister Jane, just nine years old, is seated at her feet, <br>With look demure, as if she, too, were thinking how to meet <br>The butcher's or the baker's bill,—though not a thought has she<br>Of aught beside her girlish toys; and next to her I see <br>Myself, a sturdy lad of twelve,—neglectful of the book <br>That open lies upon my knee,—my fixed admiring look <br>At Uncle Ned, upon the left, whose upright, martial mien, <br>Whose empty sleeve and gray mustache, proclaim what he has been.<br>My mother I had always loved; my father then was dead; <br>But 'twas more than love—'twas worship—I felt for Uncle Ned. <br>Such tales he had of battle-fields,—the victory and the rout, <br>The ringing cheer, the dying shriek, the loud exulting shout! <br>And how, forgetting age and wounds, his eye would kindle bright, <br>When telling of some desperate ride or close and deadly fight!<br>But oft I noticed, in the midst of some wild martial tale, <br>To which I lent attentive ear, my mother's cheek grow pale;<br>She sighed to see my kindled look, and feared I might be led<br>To follow in the wayward steps of poor old Uncle Ned. <br>But with all the wondrous tales he told, 'twas strange I never heard <br>Of his last fight, for of that day he never spoke a word. <br>And yet 'twas there he lost his arm, and once he e'en confessed <br>'Twas there he won the glittering cross he wore upon his breast.<br>It hung the center of a group of Glory's emblems fair, <br>And royal hands, he told me once, had placed the bauble there. <br>Each day that passed I hungered more to hear about that fight, <br>And oftentimes I prayed in vain. At length, one winter's night,— <br>The very night I speak of now,—with more than usual care <br>I filled his pipe, then took my stand beside my uncle's chair: <br>I fixed my eyes upon the Cross,—he saw my youthful plan; <br>And, smiling, laid the pipe aside and thus the tale began:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, boy, it was in summer time, and just at morning's light<br>We heard the 'Boot and Saddle!' sound: the foe was then in sight,<br>Just winding round a distant hill and opening on the plain.<br>Each trooper looked with careful eye to girth and curb and rein.<br>We snatched a hasty breakfast,—we were old campaigners then:<br>That morn, of all our splendid corps, we'd scarce one hundred men;<br>But they were soldiers, tried and true, who'd rather die than yield:<br>The rest were scattered far and wide o'er many a hard fought field.<br>Our trumpet now rang sharply out, and at a swinging pace<br>We left the bivouac behind; and soon the eye could trace<br>The columns moving o'er the plain. Oh! ' twas a stirring sight<br>To see two mighty armies there preparing for the fight:<br>To watch the heavy masses, as, with practiced, steady wheel,<br>They opened out in slender lines of brightly flashing steel.<br>Our place was on the farther flank, behind some rising ground,<br>That hid the stirring scene from view; but soon a booming sound<br>Proclaimed the opening of the fight. Then war's loud thunder rolled,<br>And hurtling shells and whistling balls their deadly message told.<br>We hoped to have a gallant day; our hearts were all aglow;<br>We longed for one wild, sweeping charge, to chase the flying foe.<br>Our troopers marked the hours glide by, but still no orders came:<br>They clutched their swords, and muttered words 'twere better not to name.<br>For hours the loud artillery roared,—the sun was at its height,—<br>Still there we lay behind that hill, shut out from all the fight!<br>We heard the maddened charging yells, the ringing British cheers,<br>And all the din of glorious war kept sounding in our ears.<br>Our hearts with fierce impatience throbbed, we cursed the very hill<br>That hid the sight: the evening fell, and we were idle still.<br>The horses, too, were almost wild, and told with angry snort <br>And blazing eye their fierce desire to join the savage sport. <br>When lower still the sun had sunk, and with it all our hope, <br>A horseman, soiled with smoke and sweat, came dashing down the slope. <br>He bore the wished-for orders. ' At last!' our Colonel cried; <br>And as he read the brief dispatch his glance was filled with pride.<br>Then he who bore the orders, in a low, emphatic tone, <br>The stern, expressive sentence spoke,—'He said it must be done!' <br>'It shall be done!' our Colonel cried. 'Men, look to strap and girth, <br>We've work to do this day will prove what every man is worth;<br>Ay, work, my lads, will make amends for all our long delay,— <br>The General says on us depends the fortune of the day!'<br>'No order needed we to mount,—each man was in his place, <br>And stern and dangerous was the look on every veteran face.<br>We trotted sharply up the hill, and halted on the brow, <br>And then that glorious field appeared. Oh! lad, I see it now! <br>But little time had we to spare for idle gazing then: <br>Beneath us, in the valley, stood a dark-clad mass of men: <br>It cut the British line in two. Our Colonel shouted, 'There! <br>Behold your work! Our orders are to charge and break that square!' <br>Each trooper drew a heavy breath, then gathered up his reins, <br>And pressed the helmet o'er his brow; the horses tossed their manes<br>In protest fierce against the curb, and spurned the springy heath, <br>Impatient for the trumpet's sound to bid them rush to death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, boy, that moment seemed an hour: at last we heard the words,— <br>'Dragoons! I know you'll follow me. Ride steady, men! Draw swords!' <br>The trumpet sounded: off we dashed, at first with steady pace, <br>But growing swifter as we went. Oh! 'twas a gallant race! <br>Three-fourths the ground was left behind: the loud and thrilling 'Charge!' <br>Rang out; but, fairly frantic now, we needed not to urge<br>With voice or rein our gallant steeds, or touch their foaming flanks. <br>They seemed to fly. Now straight in front appeared the kneeling ranks. <br>Above them waved a standard broad: we saw their rifles raised,— <br>A moment more, with awful crash, the deadly volley blazed. <br>The bullets whistled through our ranks, and many a trooper fell; <br>But we were left. What cared we then! but onward rushing still! <br>Again the crash roared fiercely out; but on! still madly on! <br>We heard the shrieks of dying men, but recked not who was gone. <br>We gored the horses' foaming flanks, and on through smoke and glare <br>We wildly dashed, with clenched teeth. We had no thought, no care!<br>Then came a sudden, sweeping rush. Again with savage heel <br>I struck my horse: with awful bound he rose right o'er their steel!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, boy, I cannot tell you how that dreadful leap was made, <br>But there I rode, inside the square, and grasped a reeking blade. <br>I cared not that I was alone, my eyes seemed filled with blood: <br>I never thought a man could feel in such a murderous mood. <br>I parried not, nor guarded thrusts; I felt not pain or wound, <br>But madly spurred the frantic horse, and swept my sword around. <br>I tried to reach the standard sheet; but there at last was foiled. <br>The gallant horse was jaded now, and from the steel recoiled. <br>They saw his fright, and pressed him then: his terror made him rear, <br>And falling back he crushed their ranks, and broke their guarded square!<br>My comrades saw the gap 'he made, and soon came dashing in;<br>They raised me up,—I felt no hurt, but mingled in the din. <br>I'd seen some fearful work before, but never was engaged <br>In such a wild and savage fight as now around me raged. <br>The foe had ceased their firing, and now plied the deadly steel: <br>Though all our men were wounded then, no pain they seemed to feel. <br>No groans escaped from those who fell, but horrid oaths instead, <br>And scowling looks of hate were on the features of the dead.<br>The fight was round the standard: though outnumbered ten to one, <br>We held our ground,—ay, more than that,—we still kept pushing on. <br>Our men now made a desperate rush to take the flag by storm.<br>I seized the pole, a blow came down and crushed my outstretched arm. <br>I felt a sudden thrill of pain, but that soon passed away; <br>And, with a devilish thirst for blood, again I joined the fray. <br>At last we rallied all our strength, and charged o'er heaps of slain: <br>Some fought to death; some wavered,—then fled across the plain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, boy, the rest is all confused: there was a fearful rout;<br>I saw our troopers chase the foe, and heard their maddened shout.<br>Then came a blank: my senses reeled, I know not how I fell;<br>I seemed to grapple with a foe, but that I cannot tell.<br>My mind was gone: when it came back I saw the moon on high;<br>Around me all was still as death. I gazed up 'at the sky,<br>And watched the glimmering stars above,—so quiet did they seem,—<br>And all that dreadful field appeared like some wild, fearful dream.<br>But memory soon came back again, and cleared my wandering brain,<br>And then from every joint and limb shot fiery darts of pain.<br>My throat was parched, the burning thirst increased with every breath;<br>I made no effort to arise, but wished and prayed for death. <br>My bridle arm was broken, and lay throbbing on the sward, <br>But something still my right hand grasped: I thought it was my sword.<br>I raised my hand to cast it off,—no reeking blade was there; <br>Then life and strength returned,—I held the Standard of the Square! <br>With bounding heart I gained my feet. Oh! then I wished to live, <br>'Twas strange the strength and love of life that standard seemed to give!<br>I gazed around: far down the vale I saw a camp-fire's glow. <br>With wandering step I ran that way,—I recked not friend or foe.<br>Though stumbling now o'er heaps of dead, now o'er a stiffened horse, <br>I heeded not, but watched the light, and held my onward course. <br>Bat soon that flash of strength had failed, and checked my feverish speed; <br>Again my throat was all ablaze, my wounds began to bleed.<br>I knew that if I fell again, my chance of life was gone, <br>So, leaning on the standard-pole, I still kept struggling on. <br>At length I neared the camp-fire: there were scarlet jackets round,<br>And swords and brazen helmets lay strewn upon the ground. <br>Some distance off, in order ranged, stood men,—about a score:<br>O God! 'twas all that now remained of my old gallant corps!<br>The muster-roll was being called: to every well-known name<br>I heard the solemn answer,—' Dead!' At length my own turn came. <br>I paused to hear,—a comrade answer, ' Dead! I saw him fall!' <br>I could not move another step, I tried in vain to call.<br>My life was flowing fast, and all around was gathering haze,<br>And o'er the heather tops I watched my comrades' cheerful blaze.<br>I thought such anguish as I felt was more than man could bear.<br>O God! it was an awful thing to die with help so near! <br>And death was stealing o'er me: with the strength of wild despair<br>I raised the standard o'er my head, and waved it through the air. <br>Then all grew dim: the fire, the men, all vanished from my sight,<br>My senses reeled; I know no more of that eventful night. <br>'Twas weeks before my mind came back: I knew not where I lay, <br>But kindly hands were round me, and old comrades came each day. <br>They told me how the waving flag that night had caught their eye, <br>And how they found me bleeding there, and thought that I must die ; <br>They brought me all the cheering news,—the war was at an end. <br>No wonder 'twas, with all their care, I soon began to mend. <br>The General came to see me, too, with all his brilliant train, <br>But what he said, or how I felt, to tell you now 'twere vain. <br>Enough, I soon grew strong again: the wished-for route had come, <br>And all the gallant veteran troops set out with cheers for home. <br>We soon arrived; and then, my lad, 'twould thrill your heart to hear<br>How England welcomed home her sons with many a ringing cheer.<br>But tush! what boots it now to speak of what was said or done? <br>The victory was dearly bought, our bravest hearts were gone. <br>Ere long the King reviewed us. Ah! that memory is sweet!<br>They made me bear the foreign flag, and lay it at his feet. <br>I parted from my brave old corps: ' twere matter, lad, for tears, <br>To leave the kind old comrades I had ridden with for years.<br>I was no longer fit for war, my wanderings had to cease. <br>There, boy, I' ve told you all my tales. Now let me smoke in peace.'<br>How vivid grows the picture now! how bright each scene appears! <br>I trace each loved and long-lost face with eyes bedimmed in tears.<br>How plain I hear thee, Uncle Ned, and see thy musing look, <br>Comparing all thy glory to the curling wreaths of smoke! <br>A truer, braver soldier ne'er for king and country bled. <br>His wanderings are forever o'er. God rest thee, Uncle Ned!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Boyle+O%27Reilly">John Boyle O'Reilly</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419093" data-title="Uncle Ned’s Tale: An Old Dragoon's Story de John Boyle O'Reilly" data-description="I OFTEN, musing, wander back to days long since gone by,
And far-off scenes and long-lost forms arise to fancy's eye. 
A group familiar now I see, who all but one are fled,— 
My mother, sister Jane, myself, and dear old Uncle Ned. 
I'll tell you..."></div>
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