Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

Rise, kindling with the orient beam,
Let Calvary's hill inspire the theme,

Unfold the garments roll'd in blood !
Oh! touch the soul,-touch all her chords
With all the omnipotence of words,

And point the way to heaven-to God I

THE MARSEILLES HYMN. DE L'Isle.

Ye sons-of Freedom, wake-to glory!

Hark! hark! what myriads-bid you rise! Your children,-wives, and grandsires hoary,

Behold their tears,--and hear their cries. Shall hateful tyrants,(mischief breeding, With hireling hosts,

-a ruffian band) Affright-and desolate the land, While peace and liberty-lie bleeding?

To arms! to Arms, ye brave!

Th’avenging sword unsheath:
March

от, ,

march ON,—all hearts resolved On victoryor death!

Now,-now,—the dangerous storm is rolling,

Which treacherous kings, (confederate,) raise; The dogs of war,-(let loose,)—are howling,

And lo! our fields-and cities—blaze; And shall we basely-view the ruin,

While lawless force,-(with guilty stride,)

Spreads desolation-far-and wide, With crimes—and bloodhis hands imbruing ?

To arms! to ARMS,—ye brave !

The avenging sword unsheath:
March on,-march on, all hearts resolved

On victory-or death!

With luxury—and pride-surrounded,

The vile_insatiate despotsdare, (Their thirst of power—and gold-unbounded, )

To mete—and vend—the light-and air. Like beasts of burden-would they load us;

Like gods,—would bid their slavesadore;

But man—is MAN,—and who-is more? Then-shall they longer-lashand goad us?

To arms! to ARMS,-ye brave !

Th' avenging sword unsheath:
March on, march on,-all hearts resolved

On VICTORY-or death!

O LIBERTY! can man resign thee

Once—having felt thy generous flame!
Can dungeons, -bolts,--and bars—confine thee,

Or whips—thy noble spirit tame?
Tuo long-the world has wept,-bewailing

That falsehood's dagger-tyrants wield:

But freedom-is our sword—and shield,
And all

their arts—are unavailing.
TO ARMS! to ARMS,-ye brave !

Th'avenging sword unsheath:
March ON, MARCH ON,—all hearts resolved

On VICTORY--or death!

COLUMBIA. TIMOTHY Dwight.

Columbia, Columbia, to glory-arise, The queen of the worldand the child of the skies; Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, While ages-on ages—thy splendors unfold. Thy reign is the lastand the noblest of time; Most fruitful thy soil, most invitingthy clime; Let the crimes of the East-ne'er encrimson thy name; Be freedom and science and virtue thy fame. To conquest and slaughter-let Europe aspire; Whelm nations—in blood and wrap citiesin fire; Thy heroes—the rights of mankind shall defend, And triumph pursue them,—and glory attend. A worldis thy realm; for a world—be thy laws, Enlarged—as thine empire, and just—as thy cause ; On Freedom's broad basis—that empire shall rise, Extend—with the main and dissolve-with the skies. Fair Science—her gates—to thy sons shall un bar, And the east-see thy morn-hide the beams of her star. New bards—and new sages, unrivaled, shall soar To fame, unextinguished, -when time is no more; To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed, Shall iy—from all nations—the best of mankind; Here, grateful—to Heaven,—with transport shall bring Their incense,-more fragrant—than odors of spring. Nor less shall thy fair ones—to glory ascend, And genius—and beauty-in harmony blend; The graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul-ever cherish the fire; Their sweetness unmingled,—their manners refined, And virtue's bright image enstamp'd on the mind; With

peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, And light up a smile—in the aspect of woe.

[ocr errors]

HERVÉ RIEL. BY ROBERT BROWNING.
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
Did the English fight the French-woe to France !
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,

With the English fleet in view.
’T was the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase;
First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville;

Close on him fled, great and small,
Twenty-two good ships in all;
And they signaled to the place,

Help the winners of a race!
Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick-or, quicker still,

Here's the English can and willl”. Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board; “Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass ?" laughed they: “Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored; Shall the Formidable here, with her twelve and eighty guns, Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,Trust to enter where 't is ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,

And with flow at full beside ?
Now, 't is slackest ebb of tide.
Reach the mooring? Rather say,
While rock stands or water runs,
Not a ship will leave the bay!”
Then was called a council straight;

Brief and bitter the debate:
“Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow
All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow

For a prize to Plymouth Sound?
Better run the ships aground !”
(Ended Damfreville his speech.)
“Not a minute more to wait !

Let the captains all and each
Shove ashore; then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!

France must undergo her fate."
“Give the word !” But no such word

Was ever spoke or heard;
For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these-
A captain ? A lieutenant? A mate-first, second, third ?

No such man of mark, and meet

With his betters to compete!
But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tourville for the fleet-
A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.

And “What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel; *Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues ? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 'Twixt the offing here and Grève, where the river disembogues ? Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying 's for?

Morn and eve, night and day,

Have I piloted your bay;
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.
Burn the fleet and ruin France ? That were worse than fifty Hogues !
Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way!

Only let me lead the line,
Have the biggest ship to steer,
Get this Formidable clear,

Make the others follow mine,
And I'll lead them most and least by a passage I know well,

Right to Solidor, past Grève,
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 I
The peril, see, is past,

All are harbored to the last,
And just as Hervé Riel hollas "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 Grève:
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 Rancel"
How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!

Out burst all with one acc

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
" Hervé Riel."
As he stepped in front once more,
Not a symptom of surprise
In the frank blue Breton eyes
Just the same man as before.

Then said Damfreville: “My friend,
I must speak out at the end,
Though I find the speaking hard :-
Praise is deeper than the lips :
You have saved the king his ships,
You must name your own reward.
'Faith, our sun was near eclipse !
Demand whate'er you will,

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,
As the honest heart laughed through
Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
“Since I needs must say my say,

Since on board the duty's done,
And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point—what is it but a run ?-

Since 't is 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 and 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 Aurore!

« AnteriorContinuar »