Thou wilt not stay; with restless feet Pursuing still thine onward flight, Thou goest as one in haste to meet Her sole desire, her head's delight.
O lovely river of Yvette!
O darling stream! on balanced wings The wood-birds sang the chansonnette That here a wandering poet sings.
THE EMPEROR'S GLOVE
"Combien faudrait-il de peaux d'Espagne pour faire un gant de cette grandeur?" A play upon the words gant, a glove, and Gand, the French for Ghent.
On St.Baron's tower, commanding Half of Flanders, his domain, Charles the Emperor once was standing, While beneath him on the landing Stood Duke Alva and his train.
Like a print in books of fables, Or a model made for show, With its pointed roofs and gables, Dormer windows, scrolls and labels, Lay the city far below.
Through its squares and streets and alleys Poured the populace of Ghent;As a routed army rallies, Or as rivers run through valleys, Hurrying to their homes they went"Nest of Lutheran misbelievers!"Cried Duke Alva as he gazed;
"Haunt of traitors and deceivers, Stronghold of insurgent weavers, Let it to the ground be razed!"On the Emperor's cap the feather Nods, as laughing he replies:
"How many skins of Spanish leather, Think you, would, if stitched together Make a glove of such a size?"A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH FLEET
OCTOBER, 1746
MR.THOMAS PRINCE loquitur.
A fleet with flags arrayed Sailed from the port of Brest, And the Admiral's ship displayed The signal: "Steer southwest."For this Admiral D'Anville Had sworn by cross and crown To ravage with fire and steel Our helpless Boston Town.
There were rumors in the street, In the houses there was fear Of the coming of the fleet, And the danger hovering near.
And while from mouth to mouth Spread the tidings of dismay, I stood in the Old South, Saying humbly: "Let us pray!
"O Lord! we would not advise;
But if in thy Providence A tempest should arise To drive the French fleet hence, And scatter it far and wide, Or sink it in the sea, We should be satisfied, And thine the glory be."This was the prayer I made, For my soul was all on flame, And even as I prayed The answering tempest came;It came with a mighty power, Shaking the windows and walls, And tolling the bell in the tower, As it tolls at funerals.
The lightning suddenly Unsheathed its flaming sword, And I cried: "Stand still, and see The salvation of the Lord!"The heavens were black with cloud, The sea was white with hail, And ever more fierce and loud Blew the October gale.
The fleet it overtook, And the broad sails in the van Like the tents of Cushan shook, Or the curtains of Midian.
Down on the reeling decks Crashed the o'erwhelming seas;Ah, never were there wrecks So pitiful as these!
Like a potter's vessel broke The great ships of the line;They were carried away as a smoke, Or sank like lead in the brine.
O Lord! before thy path They vanished and ceased to be, When thou didst walk in wrath With thine horses through the sea!
THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG
Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, His chestnut steed with four white feet, Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou, Son of the road and bandit chief, Seeking refuge and relief, Up the mountain pathway flew.
Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed, Never yet could any steed Reach the dust-cloud in his course.
More than maiden, more than wife, More than gold and next to life Roushan the Robber loved his horse.
In the land that lies beyond Erzeroum and Trebizond, Garden-girt his fortress stood;Plundered khan, or caravan Journeying north from Koordistan, Gave him wealth and wine and food.
Seven hundred and fourscore Men at arms his livery wore, Did his bidding night and day.
Now, through regions all unknown, He was wandering, lost, alone, Seeking without guide his way.
Suddenly the pathway ends, Sheer the precipice descends, Loud the torrent roars unseen;Thirty feet from side to side Yawns the chasm; on air must ride He who crosses this ravine.
Following close in his pursuit, At the precipice's foot, Reyhan the Arab of Orfah Halted with his hundred men, Shouting upward from the glen, "La Illah illa Allah!"Gently Roushan Beg caressed Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast;Kissed him upon both his eyes;
Sang to him in his wild way, As upon the topmost spray Sings a bird before it flies.
"O my Kyrat, O my steed, Round and slender as a reed, Carry me this peril through!
Satin housings shall be thine, Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine, O thou soul of Kurroglou!
"Soft thy skin as silken skein, Soft as woman's hair thy mane, Tender are thine eyes and true;All thy hoofs like ivory shine, Polished bright; O, life of mine, Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!"Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet, Drew together his four white feet, Paused a moment on the verge, Measured with his eye the space, And into the air's embrace Leaped as leaps the ocean surge.
As the ocean surge o'er sand Bears a swimmer safe to land, Kyrat safe his rider bore;Rattling down the deep abyss Fragments of the precipice Rolled like pebbles on a shore.
Roushan's tasselled cap of red Trembled not upon his head, Careless sat he and upright;Neither hand nor bridle shook, Nor his head he turned to look, As he galloped out of sight.
Flash of harness in the air, Seen a moment like the glare Of a sword drawn from its sheath;Thus the phantom horseman passed, And the shadow that he cast Leaped the cataract underneath.
Reyhan the Arab held his breath While this vision of life and death Passed above him."Allahu!"Cried he."In all Koordistan Lives there not so brave a man As this Robber Kurroglou!"HAROUN AL RASCHID
One day, Haroun Al Raschid read A book wherein the poet said:--"Where are the kings, and where the rest Of those who once the world possessed?
"They're gone with all their pomp and show, They're gone the way that thou shalt go.
"O thou who choosest for thy share The world, and what the world calls fair,"Take all that it can give or lend, But know that death is at the end!"Haroun Al Raschid bowed his head:
Tears fell upon the page he read.
KING TRISANKU