And I lead them most and least by a passage I know well, Right to Solidor, past Greve, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave, Keel so much as grate the ground, Why, I've nothing but my life; here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. Still the north-wind, by God's grace. See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock. Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground. Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, All are harbored to the last; And just as Hervé Riel halloos "Anchor!"-sure as fate, Up the English come, too late. So the storm subsides to calm; They see the green trees wave On the heights o'erlooking Greve; Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance As they cannonade away! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" How hope succeeds despair on each captain's counte nance! Outburst all with one accord, "This is Paradise for Hell! Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing!" What a shout and all one word, As he stepped in front once more, Then said Damfreville, "My friend, Though I find the speaking hard: France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfreville." Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run? Since 'tis ask and have I may, Since the others go ashore, Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked, and that he got,-nothing more. Name and deed alike are lost; Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing-smack. In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. Go to Paris; rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank; You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel. So, for better or for worse, Hervé Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Robert Browning. WARREN'S ADDRESS. Stand! the ground 's your own, my braves! Will ye look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peal! Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Who have done it! From the vale On they come! -and will ye quail? Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust! Be consigned so well, As where heaven its dew shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell. HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX. I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew, "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through. Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace, 'Twas a moonset at starting; but while we drew near And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the halfchime, So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!" At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray; And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back By Hasselt Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff; "How they'll greet us!"—and all in a moment his roan Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer,Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. And all I remember is friends flocking round, As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; Was no more than his due who brought good news from Robert Browning. |