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But dropped a seed, has grown a balsam- | And, the thirty-first of May, belter-skelter tree

through the blue, Whereof the blossoming perfumes the Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal place

of sharks pursue, At this supreme of moments! He is a I Came crowding ship on ship to Saint priest;

Malo on the Rance,
He cannot marry therefore, which is right: With the English fleet in view.
I think he would not marry if he could.
Marriage on earth seems such a counterfeit,
Mere imitation of the inimitable:

’T was the squadron that escaped, with the In heaven we have the real and true and

victor in full chase; sure.

First and foremost of the drove, in his 'T is there they neither marry nor are

great ship, Damfreville; given

1810 Close on him fed, great and small, In marriage but are as the angels: right,

Twenty-two good ships in all; Oh how right that is, how like Jesus And they signalled to the place Christ

“Help the winners of a race ! To say that! Marriage-making for the Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us earth,

quick - or, quicker still, With gold so much, — birth, power, repute Here's the English can and will ! "

so much, Or beauty, youth so much, in lack of these!

III Be as the angels rather, who, apart,

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk Know themselves into one, are found at

and leapt on board ; length

“ Why, wbat hope or chance have ships Married, but marry never, no, nor give

like these to pass ? ” laughed they: In marriage; they are man and wife at “Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the once

passage scarred and scored, When the true time is: here we have to Shall the • Formidable' here with her twelve wait


and eighty guns Not so long neither! Could we by a wish Think to make the river-month by the Have what we will and get the future now,

single narrow way, Would we wish aught done undone in the Trust to enter where 't is ticklish for a craft past?

of twenty tons, So, let him wait God's instant men call And with flow at full beside ? years;

Now, 't is slackest ebb of tide. Meantime hold hard by truth and his great Reach the mooring ? Rather say, soul,

While rock stands or water runs, Do out the duty! Through such souls Not a ship will leave the bay !”

God stooping shows sufficient of his light
For us i the dark to rise by. And I 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 to

gether stern and bow, [This ballad was printed first in the Cornhill For a prize to Plymouth Sound ? Magazine for March, 1871.]

Better run the ships aground !”

(Ended Damfreville his speech).

“ Not a minute more to wait ! On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hun. | Let the Captains all and each dred ninety-two,

Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the Did the English fight the French, - woe

vessels on the beach! to France !

France must undergo her fate.



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Still the north-wind, by God's grace ! “Give the word !” But no such word See the noble fellow's face Was ever spoke or heard;

As the big ship, with a bound, For up stood, for out stepped, for in Clears the entry like a hound, struck amid all these

Keeps the passage as its inch of way were - A Captain ? A Lieutenant ? A Mate —

the wide sea's profound ! first, second, third ?

See, safe through shoal and rock, No such mau of mark, and meet

How they follow in a flock, With his betters to compete !

Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that But a simple Breton sailor pressed by

grates the ground,
Tourville for the fleet,

Not a spar that comes to grief !
A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the The peril, see, is past,

All are harbored to the last,
And just as Hervé Riel hollas “ Anchor!"

- sure as fate,
And “What mockery or malice have we | Up the English come — too late !

here?” cries Hervé Riel: “ Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you

cowards, fools, or rogues ? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who

So, the storm subsides to calm:

They see the green trees wave took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every sballow,

On the heights o'erlooking Grève.

Hearts that bled are stanched every swell

with 'Twixt the offing here and Grève where

balm. the river disembogues ?

“ Just our rapture to enhance,

Let the English rake the bay, Are you bought by English gold ? Is it

| Gnash their teeth and glare askance love the lying 's for ?

gon 50 Morn and eve, night and day,

As they cannonade away! Have I piloted your bay,

'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on Entered free and anchored fast at the foot

the Rance !” of Solidor.

How hope succeeds despair on each CapBurn the fleet and ruin France ? That

tain's countenance !

Out burst all with one accord, were worse than fifty Hogues ! Sirs, they know I speak the truth!

“This is Paradise for Hell ! Sirs, believe me there's a way!

Let France, let France's King Only let me lead the line,

Thank the man that did the thing!”

What a shout, and all one word, Have the biggest ship to steer,

“Hervé Riel !" Get this • Formidable' clear, Make the others follow mine,

As he stepped in front once more,

1001 And I lead them, most and least, by a pas

Not a symptom of surprise sage I know well,

In the frank blue Breton eyes, Right to Solidor past Grève,

Just the same man as before. And there lay them safe and sound;

IX And if one ship misbehave,

– Keel so much as grate the ground, Then said Damfreville, “My friend,
Why, I've nothing but my life, - here's I must speak ont at the end,
my head !” cries Hervé Riel.

Though I find the speaking hard.
Praise is deeper than the lips:

You have saved the King his ships,
Not a minute more to wait.

You must name your own reward. “Steer us in, then, small and great! 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! Take the helm, lead the line, save the Demand whate'er you will, squadron ! ” cried its chief.

France remains your debtor still, Captains, give the sailor place!

Ask to heart's content and have ! or my He is Admiral, in brief.

name's not Damfreville."




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Now, henceforth and forever,- 0 latest Then a beam of fun outbroke

to whom I upraise On the bearded mouth that spoke,

Hand and heart and voice! For Athens, As the honest heart laughed through

leave pasture and flock! Those frank eyes of Breton blue:

Present to help, potent to save, Pan “ Since I needs must say my say,

patron I call! Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, Archons of Athens, topped by the tettix, see, what is it but a run ? —

I return! Since 't is ask and have, I may

See, 't is myself here standing alive, no Since the others go ashore

spectre that speaks! Come ! A good whole holiday !

Crowned with the myrtle, did you command Leave to go and see my wife, whom I me, Athens and you, call the Belle Aurore !”

“ Run, Pheidippides, run and race, reach That be asked and that he got, - nothing

Sparta for aid! more.

Persia has come, we are here, where is

She ? ” Your command I obeyed, XI

Ran and raced: like stubble, some field Name and deed alike are lost:

which a fire runs through, Not a pillar nor a post

Was the space between city and city : two In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it days, two nights did I burn befell;

Over the hills, under the dales, down pits Not a head in white and black

and up peaks. On a single fishing-smack,

130 In memory of the man but for whom had Into their midst I broke: breath served but gone to wrack

for “ Persia has come! All that France saved from the fight Persia bids Athens proffer slaves’-tribute, whence England bore the bell.

water and earth; Go to Paris: rank on rank

Razed to the ground is Eretria - but Search the heroes flung pell-mell

Athens, shall Athens sink, On the Louvre, face and flank !

Drop into dust and die — the flower of You shall look long enough ere you come

Hellas utterly die, to Hervé Riel.

Die, with the wide world spitting at Sparta, So, for better and for worse,

the stupid, the stander-by? Hervé Riel, accept my verse!

Answer me quick, what help, what hand In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once

do you stretch o'er destruction's more

brink? Save the squadron, honor France, love thy | How, — when? No care for my limbs! wife the Belle Aurore!

there's lightning in all and some — Fresh and fit your message to bear, once

lips give it birth!” PHEIDIPPIDES

O my Athens - Sparta love thee? Did Χαίρετε, νικώμεν.

Sparta respond ?

Every face of her leered in a furrow of FIRST I salute this soil of the blessed, river

envy, mistrust, and rock!

Malice, - each eye of her gave me its glitGods of my birthplace, dæmons and heroes, ter of gratified hate! honor to all!

Gravely they turned to take counsel, to cast Then I name thee, claim thee for our patron, for excuses. I stood co-equal in praise

Quivering, - the limbs of me fretting as – Ay, with Zeus the Defender, with Her fire frets, an inch from dry of the ægis and spear!

wood: Also, ye of the bow and the buskin, praised “ Persia has come, Athens asks aid, and be your peer,

still they debate?



Thunder, thou Zeus! Athene, are Spartans

a quarry beyond Swing of thy spear? Phoibos and Artemis,

clang them · Ye must'!".

No bolt launched from Olumpos! Lo, their

answer at last! “ Has Persia come, - does Athens ask aid,

- may Sparta befriend? Nowise precipitate judgment — too weighty

the issue at stake! Count we no time lost time which lags

through respect to the gods! Ponder that precept of old, No warfare,

whatever the odds In your favor, so long as the moon, half

orbed, is unable to take Full-circle her state in the sky!' Already

she rounds to it fast: Athens must wait, patient as we — who

judgment suspend.”

Such my cry as, rapid, I ran over Parnes'

ridge; Gully and gap I clambered and cleared till,

sudden, a bar Jutted, a stoppage of stone against me,

blocking the way. Right! for I minded the hollow to traverse,

the fissure across: “Where I could enter, there I depart by!

Night in the fosse ? Athens to aid ? Though the dive were

through Erebos, thus I obey Out of the day dive, into the day as bravely

arise! No bridge Better!" — when - ha! what was it I came

on, of wonders that are ? There, in the cool of a cleft, sat he — ma

jestical Pan! Ivy drooped wanton, kissed his head, moss

cushioned his hoof: All the great god was good in the eyes

grave-kindly - the curl Carved on the bearded cheek, amused at a

mortal's awe, As, under the human trunk, the goat-thighs

grand I saw. · “ Halt, Pheidippides ! ” — halt I did, my

brain of a wbirl: “Hither to me! Why pala in my presence?"

he gracious began: “How is it, — Athens, only in Hellas, holds

me aloof ?

Wood hilocle of my and the

Athens, - except for that sparkle, – thy

name, I had mouldered to ash! That sent a blaze through my blood; off,

off and away was I back, - Not one word to waste, one look to lose

on the false and the vile! Yet“ () gods of my land!." I cried, as each

hillock and plain, Wood and stream, I knew, I named, rush

ing past them again, “ Have ye kept faith, proved mindful of

honors we paid you erewhile ? Vain was the filleted victim, the fulsome

libation ! Too rash Love in its choice, paid you so largely ser

vice so slack! “Oak and olive and bay, - I bid you cease

to enwreathe Brows made bold by your leaf! Fade at the

Persian's foot, You that, our patrons were pledged, should

never adorn a slave! Rather I hail thee, Parnes, — trust to thy

wild waste tract! Treeless, herbless, lifeless mountain! What

matter if slacked My speed may hardly be, for homage to

crag and to cave No deity deigns to drape with verdure ? at

least I can breathe, Fear in thee no fraud from the blind, no

lie from the mute!”

“ Athens, she only, rears me no fane, makes

me no feast! Wherefore ? Than I what godship to Ath

ens more helpful of old ? Ay, and still, and forever her friend ! Test

Pan, trust me! Go, bid Athens take heart, laugh Persia to

scorn, have faith In the temples and tombs! Go, say to

Athens, “The Goat-God saith: When Persia -- so much as strews not the

soil is cast in the sea, Then praise Pan who fought in the ranks

with your most and least, Goat-thigh to greaved-thigh, made one

cause with the free and the bold!'


“Say Pan saith: Let this, foreshowing the

place, be the pledge!'(Gay, the liberal hand held out this herb

age I bear

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- Fennel – I grasped it a-tremble with Ran like fire once more: and the space dew - whatever it bode)

twixt the Fennel-field sWhile, as for thee" ... But enough! And Athens was stubble again, a field He was gone. If I ran hitherto —

which a fire runs through, Be sure that, the rest of my journey, I ran Till in he broke: “Rejoice, we conquer!” no longer, but flew.

Like wine through clay, Parnes to Athens — earth no more, the air Joy in his blood bursting his heart, be was my road:

died — the bliss! Here am I back. Praise Pan, we stand no more on the razor's edge!

So, to this day, when friend meets friend, Pan for Athens, Pan for me! I too have a

the word of salute guerdon rare!

Is still “ Rejoice!” — his word which

brought rejoicing indeed. Then spoke Miltiades. “And thee, best So is Pheidippides happy for ever, — the runner of Greece,

noble strong man Whose limbs did duty indeed, — what gift Who could race like a god, bear the face is promised thyself?


of a god, whom a god loved so well; Tell it us straightway, — Athens the mother He saw the land saved he had helped to demands of her son!”

save, and was suffered to tell Rosily blushed the youth: he paused: but, Such tidings, yet never decline, but, glorilifting at length

ously as he began, His eyes from the ground, it seemed as he So to end gloriously — once to shout, theregathered the rest of his strength

after be mute: Into the utterance — “ Pan spoke thus: “Athens is saved!” – Pheidippides dies in For what thou hast done

the shout for his mead. Count on a worthy reward! Henceforth be

allowed thee release From the racer's toil, no vulgar reward in

CLIVE praise or in pelf!'

Browning had this story from Mrs. Jameson “I am bold to believe, Pan means reward

as early as 1846, she in turn having just heard

Macaulay tell it. Browning's own narrative the most to my mind!

preceded Clive's death by a week only. Fight I shall, with our foremost, wherever this fennel may grow,

I AND Clive were friends — and why not? Pound — Pan helping us - Persia to dust, Friends! I think you laugh, my lad. and, under the deep,

Clive it was gave England India, while Whelm her away forever; and then, - no

your father gives - egad, Athens to save,


England nothing but the graceless boy who Marry a certain maid, I know keeps faith lures him on to speak — to the brave, —

“ Well, Sir, you and Clive were comHie to my house and home: and, when my

rades — ” with a tongue thrust in children shall creep

your cheek! Close to my knees, — recount how the God Very true: in my eyes, your eyes, all the was awful yet kind,

world's eyes, Clive was man, Promised their sire reward to the full — I was, am, and ever shall be — mouse, nay, rewarding him — so!”

mouse of all its clan

Sorriest sample, if you take the kitchen's Unforeseeing one! Yes, he fought on the

estimate for fame; Marathon day:

While the man Clive — he fought Plassy So, when Persia was dust, all cried “ To spoiled the clever foreign game, Akropolis!

Conquered and annexed and Englished! Run, Pheidippides, one race more! the meed is thy due!

Never mind! As o'er my punch • Athens is saved, thank Pan,' go shout!” | (You away) I sit of evenings, - silence, He flung down his shield,

save for biscuit crunch,

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