At the Long Sault

A prisoner under the stars I lie,With no friend near;To-morrow they lead me forth to die,The stake is ready, the torments set,They will pay in full their deadly debt;But I fear them not! Oh, none could fearOf those who stood by Daulac's side—While he prayed and laughed and sang and foughtIn the very reek of death—and caughtThe martyr passion that flamed from his faceAs he died!

Where he led us we followed glad,For we loved him well;Some there were that held him mad,But we knew that a heavenly rage had placeIn that dauntless soul; the good God spakeTo us through him; we had naught to doSave only obey; and when his eyesFlashed and kindled like storm-swept skies,And his voice like a trumpet thrilled us through,We would have marched with delight for his sakeTo the jaws of hell.

The mists hung blue and still on the streamAt the marge of dawn;The rapids laughed till we saw their teethLike a snarling wolf's fangs glisten and gleam;Sweetly the pine trees underneathThe shadows slept in the moonlight wan;Sweetly beneath the steps of the springThe great, grim forest was blossoming;And we fought, that springs for other menMight blossom again.

Faint, thirst-maddened we prayed and foughtBy night and by day;Eyes glared at us with serpent hate—Yet sometimes a hush fell, and then we heard naughtSave the wind's shrill harping far away,The piping of birds, and the softened callsOf the merry, distant water-falls;Then of other scenes we thought—Of valleys beloved in sunny France,Purple vineyards of song and dance,Hopes and visions roseate;Of many a holy festal morn,And many a dream at vesper bell—But anon the shuddering air was tornBy noises such as the fiends of hellMight make in holding high holiday!Once, so bitter the death-storm hailed,We shrank and quailed.

Daulac sprang out before us then,Shamed in our fears;Glorious was his face to see,The face of one who listens and hearsVoices unearthly, summonings high—Rang his tone like a clarion, "Men,See yonder star in the golden sky,Such a man's duty is to him,A beacon that will not flicker nor dim,Shining through darkness and despair.Almost the martyr's crown is yours!Thinking the price too high to be paid,Will you leave the sacrifice half made?I tell you God will answer the prayerOf the soul that endures!

"Comrades, far in the future I seeA mighty land;Throned among the nations of earth,Noble and happy, calm and free;As a veil were lifted I see her stand,And out of that future a voice to mePromises that our names shall shineOn the page of her story with lustre divineImpelling to visions and deeds of worth.

"Ever thus since the world was begun,When a man hath given up his life,Safety and freedom have been wonBy the holy power of self-sacrifice;For the memory of your mother's kissValiantly stand to the breach again.Comrades, blench not now from the strife,Quit you like men!"

Oh, we rushed to meet at our captain's sideDeath as a bride!All our brave striplings bravely fell.I, less fortunate, slowly cameBack from that din of shot and yellSlowly and gaspingly, to knowA harder fate reserved for meThan that brief, splendid agony.Through many a bitter pang and throeMy spirit must to-morrow goTo seek my comrades; but I bearThe tidings that our desperate standBy the Long Sault has saved our land,And God has answered Daulac's prayer.