@3A hero of ancient mold is Nicholas Oberting, of Hardentown, Indiana, who, a few days ago, in saving three boys from being gored to death by his infuriated bull, performed a feat of daring comparable only with the valorous deeds of Roman gladiators@1. . . . -- INDIANAPOLIS STAR. SING! O Voice of Valor, sing! -- Sing of Nicholas Oberting! Giant of the strength of ten, Yet the gentlest of all men. He it was that loved the air, And the green fields everywhere -- Loved the meadow slopes and rills, And the cattle on the hills -- Loved all out-o'-doors, and took Off his hat, with reverent look, As the balmy winds of Spring Waved the peach-bough, blossoming At the orchard edge, where he Paused to mark the minstrelsy Of the daring first redbreast, Whose lilt, at its loveliest, Was not lovelier to hear Than the laughter, ringing near, Of child-voices -- Truants, -- three Little stragglers, he could see, Crossing the near pasture-land Loiteringly, hand in hand, Laughing as they came. . . . Until -- Sudden ran a sickening chill Through the strong man's heart! . . . He heard Scarce his own voice, afterward, For the maddened, bellowing roar Of the monster beast that bore Down upon the lads. . . . Out rang His quick warning. -- Then he sprang Forth to meet them, crying, @3"Run! -- Straight for me! -- Come on! -- Well done!"@1 -- Praised them -- cheered them. -- @3"Good! Hooray!@1 @3Now, Red-top, you throw away That cap! but don't"@1 -- And breathless hung The sentence; -- for a root had flung The youngster -- stunned -- prone on the ground . . . Then -- midst a trampling, thund'rous sound, The bellowing beast, with his big bent head, And great horns, white as his eyes were red! -- Charged for the lad, as he helpless lay . . . There was a leap then; and -- they say (For but one boy had swooned away) There was the @3leap@1 and the @3laugh@1 of @3a Man@1 . . . And the bravest war of the world began: Pinned by the horns in the Hercules grip Of his master -- the slavering jaws adrip, The foaming, steaming, sweltering, hot- Mouthed monster raged and charged and fought, -- But ever the great strong hands were set At their horny leverage, bloody-wet; And ever steadier pressed the hold, And ever the wild eyes wilder rolled As the thick neck turned, and the great hulk grew Like an o'er-fed engine, shuddering through -- Yet the thick neck turned -- and turned -- and turned -- Till the raw tongue shot from the throat and burned The live air foul; and the beast lurched dead Crunchingly. . . . And the youngster said That the big man just lay there and cried -- He was so sorry and satisfied! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THAT SUCH HAVE DIED by EMILY DICKINSON COBWEBS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 99. AZ-ZABOOR by EDWIN ARNOLD ON THE PORTRAIT OF A COLONEL; G.H.H. by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN APPREHENSION by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |