"
They shrieked at him.
They shrieked at him.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
" cried the woman, "shoot him where he stands.
He is a wolf! " "A wolf that has been caught,"
The prisoner said, "by a vile pack of curs! "
"The wretch insults us! " yelled the furious mob.
"Down with him! Death! Death! Death! " And with clenched fists
They struck him on the face. An angry flame
Gleamed in his eyes, but, silent and superb,
He marched along the street amid the howls
Of the ferocious, maddened multitude!
God! How they hated him! To shoot him seemed
Too light a sentence, as he calmly strode
Over the corpses of their comrades strewn
Along the street. "How many did you kill?
"
They shrieked at him. "Murderer! Traitor! Spy! "
He did not answer; but the waiting mob
Heard a small voice cry: "Daddy! " and a child
Of six years' age ran from a house close by,
And struggled to remain and clasped his knees,
Saying, "He is my daddy. Don't hurt him!
He is my daddy--" "Down with the cursed spy!
Shoot him at once! " a hundred voices said;
"Then we can get on with our work! " Their yells,
The clangour of the tocsin, and the roar
Of cannon mingled. 'Mid the dreadful noise,
The child, still clinging to his father's knees,
Cried, "I tell you he's my daddy. Let him go! "
Pale, tearful, with one arm thrown out to shield
His father, and the other round his leg,
The child stood. "He is pretty! " said a girl.
He is a wolf! " "A wolf that has been caught,"
The prisoner said, "by a vile pack of curs! "
"The wretch insults us! " yelled the furious mob.
"Down with him! Death! Death! Death! " And with clenched fists
They struck him on the face. An angry flame
Gleamed in his eyes, but, silent and superb,
He marched along the street amid the howls
Of the ferocious, maddened multitude!
God! How they hated him! To shoot him seemed
Too light a sentence, as he calmly strode
Over the corpses of their comrades strewn
Along the street. "How many did you kill?
"
They shrieked at him. "Murderer! Traitor! Spy! "
He did not answer; but the waiting mob
Heard a small voice cry: "Daddy! " and a child
Of six years' age ran from a house close by,
And struggled to remain and clasped his knees,
Saying, "He is my daddy. Don't hurt him!
He is my daddy--" "Down with the cursed spy!
Shoot him at once! " a hundred voices said;
"Then we can get on with our work! " Their yells,
The clangour of the tocsin, and the roar
Of cannon mingled. 'Mid the dreadful noise,
The child, still clinging to his father's knees,
Cried, "I tell you he's my daddy. Let him go! "
Pale, tearful, with one arm thrown out to shield
His father, and the other round his leg,
The child stood. "He is pretty! " said a girl.
