The Little Heroine

The Little Heroine.
165.2

“Eay, who will climb the belfry tower
And cut cut that banner down;
All broken in the Austrian’s power,
They gullop from the town.

“And surely the an Idie taunt.
With this day’s victory gained,
To see you painted fairehood fla flaunt
The very sky seems stained.”

Bo spake the Duke: around he glanced
To see that each man heard;
But every eye was on the ground.
No sinkie soldier stirred,

Each thought, “Cut down by hand that flag
Foolhardy were the deed.
When one three pounder’d euap its staff
As breaks a withered reed.”

But just as silence grew to shame
And none would life lita face.
A sunburned child with face aflame
Stood forth before his grace.

She curtated, gave a hasty glance
To where the flag flew high.
Then, stammering, she said.
“My lord. May I have leave to try?”

“You, child!” he mocked, “By Maral
You come to school these veterans grim,
But your reward, these two fair plumes
That deck my beaver’s brim.”

Lour rang his laugh. “So be It, climb:
The plumes are yours If won.”
She darts across the street as fleet
As swallow int In the sun.

The church door clashes at her back.
She rushss up the stair:
Against the sky in the belfry high,
Bee, see her standing there.

Along the narrow dormer’s edge
Up to the broken ball:
Oh, shattered foist and splintered beam,
Let not the brave child fail.

But see, she graaps its elender staff,
And slowly, gently, ses,
The flag begins to sink:
Good cord, do thy work faithfully.

The pulley turns, the rope runs smooth,
Down, down the gay ny folds gilde.
Till. like a quivering steed,
They hang her hand beside,

Close gathered, look, she cuts their bonde,
Her scissors nashink fair.
Till ilghtly pushed from where she stande
They drop plumb to the square.

But no man thought to raise his cheer
Uutil, oh blessed chance.
They ses her clamber down the stair
Bare from the church steps advance.

Ah, then, what shouting came from all
To honer oner such a deed;
Up the old street at the Duke’s side
She rides his pacing steed.

Her homespun apron filled with crowns,
The Duke’s plumes in her hair.
What man can say a little maid
Can never do and dare.