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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Grandmother's Story Of Bunker Hill Battle (as she saw it from the Belfry)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers <br>All the achings and the quakings of 'the times that tried men's souls'; <br>When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story, <br>To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I had heard the muskets' rattle of the April running battle; <br>Lord Percy's hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still; <br>But a deadly chill comes o'er me, as the day looms up before me, <br>When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker's Hill. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Twas a peaceful summer's morning, when the first thing gave us warning <br>Was the booming of the cannon from the river and the shore: <br>'Child,' says grandma, 'what's the matter, what is all this noise and clatter? <br>Have those scalping Indian devils come to murder us once more?' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Poor old soul! my sides were shaking in the midst of all my quaking <br>To hear her talk of Indians when the guns began to roar: <br>She had seen the burning village, and the slaughter and the pillage, <br>When the Mohawks killed her father, with their bullets through his door. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then I said, 'Now, dear old granny, don't you fret and worry any, <br>For I'll soon come back and tell you whether this is work or play; <br>There can't be mischief in it, so I won't be gone a minute'— <br>For a minute then I started. I was gone the livelong day. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No time for bodice-lacing or for looking-glass grimacing; <br>Down my hair went as I hurried, tumbling half-way to my heels; <br>God forbid your ever knowing, when there's blood around her flowing, <br>How the lonely, helpless daughter of a quiet household feels! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the street I heard a thumping; and I knew it was the stumping <br>Of the Corporal, our old neighbor, on that wooden leg he wore, <br>With a knot of women round him,—it was lucky I had found him,— <br>So I followed with the others, and the Corporal marched before. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They were making for the steeple,—the old soldier and his people; <br>The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the creaking stair, <br>Just across the narrow river—O, so close it made me shiver!— <br>Stood a fortress on the hilltop that but yesterday was bare. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Not slow our eyes to find it; well we knew who stood behind it, <br>Though the earthwork hid them from us, and the stubborn walls were dumb: <br>Here were sister, wife, and mother, looking wild upon each other, <br>And their lips were white with terror as they said, THE HOUR HAS COME! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The morning slowly wasted, not a morsel had we tasted, <br>And our heads were almost splitting with the cannons' deafening thrill, <br>When a figure tall and stately round the rampart strode sedately; <br>It was PRESCOTT, one since told me; he commanded on the hill. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Every woman's heart grew bigger when we saw his manly figure, <br>With the banyan buckled round it, standing up so straight and tall; <br>Like a gentleman of leisure who is strolling out for pleasure, <br>Through the storm of shells and cannon-shot he walked around the wall. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At eleven the streets were swarming, for the red-coats' ranks were forming; <br>At noon in marching order they were moving to the piers; <br>How the bayonets gleamed and glistened, as we looked far down and listened <br>To the trampling and the drum-beat of the belted grenadiers! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At length the men have started, with a cheer (it seemed faint-hearted), <br>In their scarlet regimentals, with their knapsacks on their backs, <br>And the reddening, rippling water, as after a sea-fight's slaughter, <br>Round the barges gliding onward blushed like blood along their tracks. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">So they crossed to the other border, and again they formed in order; <br>And the boats came back for soldiers, came for soldiers, soldiers still: <br>The time seemed everlasting to us women faint and fasting,— <br>At last they're moving, marching, marching proudly up the hill. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We can see the bright steel glancing all along the lines advancing— <br>Now the front rank fires a volley—they have thrown away their shot; <br>Far behind the earthwork lying, all the balls above them flying, <br>Our people need not hurry; so they wait and answer not. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then the Corporal, our old cripple (he would swear sometimes and tipple),— <br>He had heard the bullets whistle (in the old French war) before,— <br>Calls out in words of jeering, just as if they all were hearing,— <br>And his wooden leg thumps fiercely on the dusty belfry floor:— </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Oh! fire away, ye villains, and earn King George's shillin's, <br>But ye'll waste a ton of powder afore a 'rebel' falls; <br>You may bang the dirt and welcome, they're as safe as Dan'l Malcolm <br>Ten foot beneath the gravestone that you've splintered with your balls!' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the hush of expectation, in the awe and trepidation <br>Of the dread approaching moment, we are well-nigh breathless all; <br>Though the rotten bars are failing on the rickety belfry railing, <br>We are crowding up against them like the waves against a wall. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Just a glimpse (the air is clearer), they are nearer,—nearer,— nearer, <br>When a flash—a curling smoke-wreath—then a crash—the steeple shakes— <br>The deadly truce is ended; the tempest's shroud is rended; <br>Like a morning mist it gathered, like a thunder-cloud it breaks! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O the sight our eyes discover as the blue-black smoke blows over! <br>The red-coats stretched in windrows as a mower rakes his hay; <br>Here a scarlet heap is lying, there a headlong crowd is flying <br>Like a billow that has broken and is shivered into spray. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then we cried, 'The troops are routed! they are beat—it can't be doubted! <br>God be thanked, the fight is over!'—Ah! the grim old soldier's smile! <br>'Tell us, tell us why you look so?' (we could hardly speak, we shook so),— <br>'Are they beaten? Are they beaten? ARE they beaten?'— 'Wait a while.' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O the trembling and the terror! for too soon we saw our error: <br>They are baffled, not defeated; we have driven them back in vain; <br>And the columns that were scattered, round the colors that were tattered, <br>Toward the sullen silent fortress turn their belted breasts again. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">All at once, as we are gazing, lo the roofs of Charlestown blazing! <br>They have fired the harmless village; in an hour it will be down! <br>The Lord in heaven confound them, rain his fire and brimstone round them,— <br>The robbing, murdering red-coats, that would burn a peaceful town! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They are marching, stern and solemn; we can see each massive column <br>As they near the naked earth-mound with the slanting walls so steep. <br>Have our soldiers got faint-hearted, and in noiseless haste departed? <br>Are they panic-struck and helpless? Are they palsied or asleep? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now! the walls they're almost under! scarce a rod the foes asunder! <br>Not a firelock flashed against them! up the earthwork they will swarm! <br>But the words have scarce been spoken, when the ominous calm is broken, <br>And a bellowing crash has emptied all the vengeance of the storm! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">So again, with murderous slaughter, pelted backward to the water, <br>Fly Pigot's running heroes and the frightened braves of Howe; <br>And we shout, 'At last they're done for, it's their barges they have run for: <br>They are beaten, beaten, beaten; and the battle's over now!' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And we looked, poor timid creatures, on the rough old soldier's features, <br>Our lips afraid to question, but he knew what we would ask: <br>'Not sure,' he said; 'keep quiet,—once more, I guess, they'll try it— <br>Here's damnation to the cut-throats!' then he handed me his flask, </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Saying, 'Gal, you're looking shaky; have a drop of old Jamaiky: <br>I'm afraid there'll be more trouble afore this job is done;' <br>So I took one scorching swallow; dreadful faint I felt and hollow, <br>Standing there from early morning when the firing was begun. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">All through those hours of trial I had watched a calm clock dial, <br>As the hands kept creeping, creeping,—they were creeping round to four, <br>When the old man said, 'They're forming with their bayonets fixed for storming: <br>It's the death grip that's a coming,—they will try the works once more.' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">With brazen trumpets blaring, the flames behind them glaring, <br>The deadly wall before them, in close array they come; <br>Still onward, upward toiling, like a dragon's fold uncoiling— <br>Like the rattlesnake's shrill warning the reverberating drum! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Over heaps all torn and gory—shall I tell the fearful story, <br>How they surged above the breastwork, as a sea breaks over a deck; <br>How, driven, yet scarce defeated, our worn-out men retreated, <br>With their powder-horns all emptied, like the swimmers from a wreck? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It has all been told and painted; as for me, they say I fainted, <br>And the wooden-legged old Corporal stumped with me down the stair: <br>When I woke from dreams affrighted the evening lamps were lighted,— <br>On the floor a youth was lying; his bleeding breast was bare. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And I heard through all the flurry, 'Send for WARREN! hurry! hurry! <br>Tell him here's a soldier bleeding, and he'll come and dress his wound!' <br>Ah, we knew not till the morrow told its tale of death and sorrow, <br>How the starlight found him stiffened on the dark and bloody ground. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Who the youth was, what his name was, where the place from which he came was, <br>Who had brought him from the battle, and had left him at our door, <br>He could not speak to tell us; but 'twas one of our brave fellows, <br>As the homespun plainly showed us which the dying soldier wore. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For they all thought he was dying, as they gathered 'round him crying,— <br>And they said, 'O, how they'll miss him!' and, 'What will his mother do?' <br>Then, his eyelids just unclosing like a child's that has been dozing, <br>He faintly murmured, 'Mother!'—and—I saw his eyes were blue. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">—'Why, grandma, how you're winking!'—Ah, my child, it sets me thinking <br>Of a story not like this one. Well, he somehow lived along; <br>So we came to know each other, and I nursed him like a—mother, <br>Till at last he stood before me, tall, and rosy-cheeked, and strong. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And we sometimes walked together in the pleasant summer weather; <br>—'Please to tell us what his name was?'—Just your own, my little dear,— <br>There's his picture Copley painted: we became so well acquainted, <br>That—in short, that's why I'm grandma, and you children all are here!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a></strong></div>

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