Practice Book, Leland Powers School Part 2

Strike, strike for the true flag, for freedom and fame!"

4. "Hush! hark! did stealing steps go by?

Came not faint whispers near?

No!--The wild wind hath many a sigh Amid the foliage sere."

5. "Her giant form O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm, Majestically calm, would go, Mid the deep darkness, white as snow!

But gentler now the small waves glide, Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side.

So stately her bearing, so proud her array, The main she will traverse for ever and aye.

Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast.

Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last!"

6. "Hark! distant voices that lightly Ripple the silence deep!

No; the swans that, circling nightly, Through the silver waters sweep.

"See I not, there, a white shimmer?

Something with pale silken shrine?

No; it is the column's glimmer, 'Gainst the gloomy hedge of pine."

7. "Hark, below the gates unbarring!

Tramp of men and quick commands!

''Tis my lord come back from hunting,'

And the d.u.c.h.ess claps her hands.

"Slow and tired came the hunters; Stopped in darkness in the court.

'Ho, this way, ye laggard hunters!

To the hall! What sport, what sport.'

"Slow they entered with their master; In the hall they laid him down.

On his coat were leaves and blood-stains, On his brow an angry frown."

8. "Now clear, pure, hard, bright, and one by one, like to hailstones, Short words fall from his lips fast as the first of a shower,-- Now in twofold column, Spondee, Iamb, and Trochee, Unbroke, firm-set, advance, retreat, trampling along,-- Now with a sprightlier springiness, bounding in triplicate syllables, Dance the elastic Dactylics in musical cadences on; Now, their voluminous coil intertangling like huge anacondas, Roll overwhelmingly onward the sesquipedalian words."

SELECTIONS.

HERVe RIEL.

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 Saint Malo on the Rance, With the English fleet in view.

'Twas 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 signalled 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 will!"

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pa.s.s?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the pa.s.sage 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 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside?

Now 'tis 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 ash.o.r.e, 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, Herve Riel the Croisickese.

And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herve 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 Greve, 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 anch.o.r.ed 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 pa.s.sage 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,--and here's my head!" cries Herve 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 G.o.d's grace!

See the n.o.ble fellow's face As the big ship with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the pa.s.sage 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 Herve 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 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!"

Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!

Out burst all with one accord, "This is Paradise for h.e.l.l!

Let France, let France's king, Thank the man that did the thing!"