II.

Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many 's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay-

(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”

III.

Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,

Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,

(Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”

IV.

Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, “Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?'

(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

ΙΟ

L

BEFORE.

I.

ET them fight it out, friend! things have gone too far.
God must judge the couple: leave them as they are

- Whichever one's the guiltless, to his glory,

And whichever one the guilt 's with, to my story!

II.

Why, you would not bid men, sunk in such a slough,
Strike no arm out further, stick and stink as now,
Leaving right and wrong to settle the embroilment,
Heaven with snaky hell, in torture and entoilment?

III.

Who's the culprit of them? How must he conceive
God the queen he caps to, laughing in his sleeve,
"'T is but decent to profess oneself beneath her:
Still, one must not be too much in earnest, either!"

IV.

Better sin the whole sin, sure that God observes;
Then go live his life out!
Life will try his nerves,

When the sky, which noticed all, makes no disclosure,
And the earth keeps up her terrible composure.

V.

Let him pace at pleasure, past the walls of rose,
Pluck their fruits when grape-trees graze him as he goes!
For he 'gins to guess the purpose of the garden,
With the sly mute thing, beside there, for a warden.

VI.

What's the leopard-dog-thing, constant at his side,
A leer and lie in every eye of its obsequious hide?
When will come an end to all the mock obeisance,
And the price appear that pays for the misfeasance?

VII.

So much for the culprit. Who's the martyred man?
Let him bear one stroke more, for be sure he can!
He that strove thus evil's lump with good to leaven,
Let him give his blood at last and get his heaven!

VIII.

All or nothing, stake it! Trusts he God or no?
Thus far and no farther? farther? be it so!
Now, enough of your chicane of prudent pauses,
Sage provisos, sub-intents and saving-clauses!

IX.

Ah, "Forgive" you bid him? While God's champion lives,
Wrong shall be resisted: dead, why, he forgives.

But you must not end my friend ere you begin him;
Evil stands not crowned on earth, while breath is in him.

Once more

X.

Will the wronger, at this last of all,

Dare to say, "I did wrong," rising in his fall?

No? - Let go, then! Both the fighters to their places!
While I count three, step you back as many paces!

20

30

40

AFTER.

AKE the cloak from his face, and at first
Let the corpse do its worst!

How he lies in his rights of a man!
Death has done all death can:

And, absorbed in the new life he leads,

He recks not, he heeds

Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
On his senses alike,

And are lost in the solemn and strange

Surprise of the change.

Ha, what avails death to erase
His offence, my disgrace?

I would we were boys as of old
In the field, by the fold:

His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn
Were so easily borne!

I stand here now, he lies in his place:
Cover the face!

HERVÉ RIEL.

I.

N 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 thro' 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.

II.

'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 harbour, take us quick—or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!"

ΤΟ

ΙΟ

III.

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt 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:

IV.

"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.

20

30

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.

VI.

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,

40

50

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 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,

60

Why, I've nothing but my life, - here's my head!” cries Hervé Riel.

VII.

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 thro' 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 harboured to the last,

And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"

Up the English come, too late!

sure as fate

VIII.

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 Rance!" How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's countenance ! Out burst all with one accord,

"This is Paradise for Hell!