AFTER. AKE the cloak from his face, and at first ΤΑ 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 And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change. Ha, what avails death to erase I would we were boys as of old His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn I stand here now, he lies in his place: HERVÉ RIEL. I. N the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety two, And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue, 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!" III. Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; 66 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!" 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? 40 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: '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, 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, 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, Why, I've nothing but my life, 60 here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. Not a minute more to wait. VII. "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, 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. 66 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! 70 80 90 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, IX. Then said Damfreville, "My friend, Tho' I find the speaking hard. France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville." X. Then a beam of fun outbroke 100 ΠΙΟ Since on board the duty 's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run? — Since 't is ask and have, I may 120 Since the others go ashore Come! A good whole holiday! 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 XI. In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing smack, In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 130 All that France saved from the fight whence England 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. So, for better and for worse, Hervé Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore! 140 Give me them again, those hands Put them upon my forehead, how it throbs! Let me! The Queen must grant whate'er I ask Con. Do, and ruin us! - Nor. Let it be now, Love! All my soul breaks forth. A man can have but one life and one death, One heaven, one hell. Let me fulfil my fate — Grant me my heaven now! Let me know you mine, Con. I am not yours then? How content this man! I am not his who change into himself, So well, that now, my spirit turned his own, 10 20 30 |