The Ballad of Oriskany
By O. C. Auringer (1849-1937) |
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She leaned her
cheek upon her hand,
And looked across the glooming land;
She saw the wood from farm to farm
Touched by the
twilight's ghostly charm;
And heard the owl's cry sound
forlorn
Across the fields of waving corn,
And sighed
with sad voice dreamily:
Oriskany! Oriskany!
The
moonlight through the open door
Laid its broad square
upon the floor;
A beetle plunging through the gloom
Hummed fitfully within the room;
Across the casement's
opening
Night creatures sped on purring wing,
And
still she murmured musically
The fatal name, Oriskany.
She raised her face to the dim night skies,
A dream
of peace was in her eyes;
Like memory speaking from the
dead
Her voice seemed, as she spoke and said:
"'T is
two years past this very morn
That he came riding through
the corn,
With his gay comrades gallantly,
To wed me
in Oriskany.
"At eve the rooms were all alight,
The bride and bridesmaids clad in white,
As we stood side
by side apart,
I trembling, but how blest at heart!
The lights, the flowers, the sparkling eyes,
Were sweet
to me as paradise;
The vows like music were to me,
That bound us in Oriskany.
"The feast that flowed mid
converse fleet,
The music and the dancing feet,
The
games that flew from room to room,
The cries, the
laughter, and the bloom,
And in the midst, so fair and
tall,
My bridegroom, prince among them all,�
'T was
all one glad, sweet dream to me,
That night in gay
Oriskany.
"And then the parting groups, the flight,
The voices fading through the night;
The homestead lying
dim and lone,
The rooms deserted, lights outblown;
The
holy hush wherein befell
The things too wondrous dear to
tell�
O sacred fire of love! Ah me�
Oriskany!
Oriskany!
"The year went round, there came a guest�
A lovely babe lay on my breast,�
Ah, we were blest! Then
came the sound
Of drum and trump the valley round:
'T
was just one year ago this morn
That he went armed across
the corn,
In strength of heart and patriot glee,
To
meet the foe on Oriskany.
"Below the hill the battle
broke;
I heard the din, I saw the smoke;
Road-weary
bands paused at the door,
And drank, and onward rode once
more;
Poor wounded souls came crawling by
To find some
quiet place to die;
My heart beat proud but fearfully
That day in wild Oriskany.
"At eve, amid the drip of
rain,
They brought me home my soldier slain!
With calm
great looks and quiet tread
They came and laid him on my
bed�
As fair as life. A bloodless blow
They said had
slain him; but his foe
He stabbed ere dying, through and
through�
My brave! His country's enemy
He smote on red
Oriskany!
"My babe died with the dying year;
Two
mounds have I in the churchyard near,
But not a loving
voice or form
To keep the earth-flame in me warm;
My
dead life to the live world clings,
I feel no joy in
natural things,�
Strangely has death mistaken me,
Who
died on dark Oriskany.
"All day within the homestead
dim
I think of him, I dream of him;
My tasks of hands
and feet and soul
Lead true to him as to their goal;
In woman's heart God wrote it thus:
That men should be as
gods to us.
I feel the pangs, the weakness see,
Yet
worship�in Oriskany.
"I cannot think of him as dead
Upon our one-year's bridal bed,
Oriskany, Oriskany!
Nor dream of him within the tomb,
Amid the willowed
churchyard's gloom,
Oriskany, Oriskany!
I see him
as he passed that morn,
Warm with all life, across the
corn:
'T is thus he shall return to me
At last, far
from Oriskany." |
By
O. C. Auringer (1849-1937)
Listed November 8, 2012 |
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