And I 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, cries Hervé Riel. 60 - here's my head!' Not a minute more to wait. 'Steer us in, then, small and great! 65 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, 70 Keeps the passage, as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! See, safe thro' shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, 75 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, 80 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! 85 90 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!' How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's counte nance ! Out burst 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, '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, Though I find the speaking hard. 95 100 105 Praise is deeper than the lips: You have saved the King his ships, 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, Those frank eyes of Breton blue: Since on board the duty's done, 115 And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it 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, 125 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 130 All that France saved from the fight whence Eng land 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. 135 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 ! THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN° ROBERT BROWNING HAMELIN town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser deep and wide Washes its walls on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; From vermin, was a pity. 5 Rats! They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in their cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, ΙΟ And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, 15 In fifty different sharps and flats. 20 At last the people in a body To the Town-hall came flocking: "'Tis clear,' cried they, 'our Mayor's a noddy : And as for our Corporation-shocking To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 25 Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking 30 To find the remedy we're lacking, An hour they sat in council, At length the Mayor broke silence: 35 |