English Narrative Poems

Narrative poetry, English; Readers -- Poetry

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:
      A mile or so away,
    On a little mound, Napoleon
      Stood on our storming-day;
    With neck out-thrust,[245] you fancy how,                          5
      Legs wide, arms locked behind,
    As if to balance the prone brow
      Oppressive with its mind.

    Just as perhaps he mused[246] "My plans
      That soar, to earth may fall,                                   10
    Let once my army-leader Lannes[247]
      Waver at yonder wall,"--
    Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
      A rider, bound on bound
    Full-galloping; nor bridle drew                                   15
      Until he reached the mound.

    Then off there flung in smiling joy,
      And held himself erect
    By just his horse's mane, a boy:
      You hardly could suspect--                                      20
    (So tight he kept his lips compressed,
      Scarce any blood came through)
    You looked twice ere you saw his breast
      Was all but shot in two.

    "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace                        25
      We've got you Ratisbon!
    The Marshal's in the market-place,
      And you'll be there anon
    To see your flag-bird[248] flap his vans
      Where I, to heart's desire,                                     30
    Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans
      Soared up again like fire.

    The chief's eye flashed; but presently
      Softened itself, as sheathes
    A film the mother-eagle's eye                                     35
      When her bruised eaglet breathes;
    "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride
      Touched to the quick, he said:
    "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,
      Smiling the boy fell dead.                                      40




THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN

A CHILD'S STORY

(Written for, and inscribed to, W. M. the Younger)


    I

      Hamelin[249] Town's in Brunswick,
    By famous Hanover city;
      The river Weser, deep and wide,
      Washes its wall on the southern side;
      A pleasanter spot you never spied;                               5
    But when begins my ditty,
      Almost five hundred years ago,
      To see the townsfolk suffer so
        From vermin, was a pity.


    II

      Rats!                                                           10
    They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
      And bit the babies in the cradles,
    And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
      And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,
    Split open the kegs of salted sprats,                             15
    Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
    And even spoiled the women's chats
      By drowning their speaking
      With shrieking and squeaking
    In fifty different sharps and flats.                              20


    III

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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English Narrative Poems

Narrative poetry, English; Readers -- Poetry

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:
      A mile or so away,
    On a little mound, Napoleon
      Stood on our storming-day;
    With neck out-thrust,[245] you fancy how,                          5
      Legs wide, arms locked behind,
    As if to balance the prone brow
      Oppressive with its mind.

    Just as perhaps he mused[246] "My plans
      That soar, to earth may fall,                                   10
    Let once my army-leader Lannes[247]
      Waver at yonder wall,"--
    Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
      A rider, bound on bound
    Full-galloping; nor bridle drew                                   15
      Until he reached the mound.

    Then off there flung in smiling joy,
      And held himself erect
    By just his horse's mane, a boy:
      You hardly could suspect--                                      20
    (So tight he kept his lips compressed,
      Scarce any blood came through)
    You looked twice ere you saw his breast
      Was all but shot in two.

    "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace                        25
      We've got you Ratisbon!
    The Marshal's in the market-place,
      And you'll be there anon
    To see your flag-bird[248] flap his vans
      Where I, to heart's desire,                                     30
    Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans
      Soared up again like fire.

    The chief's eye flashed; but presently
      Softened itself, as sheathes
    A film the mother-eagle's eye                                     35
      When her bruised eaglet breathes;
    "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride
      Touched to the quick, he said:
    "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,
      Smiling the boy fell dead.                                      40




THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN

A CHILD'S STORY

(Written for, and inscribed to, W. M. the Younger)


    I

      Hamelin[249] Town's in Brunswick,
    By famous Hanover city;
      The river Weser, deep and wide,
      Washes its wall on the southern side;
      A pleasanter spot you never spied;                               5
    But when begins my ditty,
      Almost five hundred years ago,
      To see the townsfolk suffer so
        From vermin, was a pity.


    II

      Rats!                                                           10
    They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
      And bit the babies in the cradles,
    And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
      And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,
    Split open the kegs of salted sprats,                             15
    Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
    And even spoiled the women's chats
      By drowning their speaking
      With shrieking and squeaking
    In fifty different sharps and flats.                              20


    III

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

English Narrative Poems

English Narrative Poems

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