English Narrative Poems Part 17

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great s.h.i.+p, Damfreville.

Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good s.h.i.+ps in all; 10 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!"

III

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; 15 "Why, what hope or chance have s.h.i.+ps 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, 20 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 s.h.i.+p will leave the bay!" 25

IV

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[262]? 30 Better run the s.h.i.+ps 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! 35 France must undergo her fate.

V

"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? 40 No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete!

But a simple Breton sailor pressed[263] by Tourville[264]

for the fleet, A poor coasting-pilot he, Herve Riel the Croisickese.[265]

VI

And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herve Riel: 45 "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? 50 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! 55 Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest s.h.i.+p 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, 60 Right to Solidor past Greve, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one s.h.i.+p misbehave, --Keel so much as grate the ground, Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries Herve Riel. 65

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. 70 Still the north-wind, by G.o.d's grace!

See the n.o.ble fellow's face As the big s.h.i.+p, 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! 75 See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a s.h.i.+p that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief!

The peril, see, is past, 80 All are harbored to the last, And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate, Up the English come--too late!

VIII

So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave 85 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 90 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 h.e.l.l! 95 Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing!"

What a shout, and all one word, "Herve Riel!"

As he stepped in front once more, 100 Not a symptom of surprise In the frank blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before.

IX

Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, 105 Though I find the speaking hard.

Praise is deeper than the lips: You have saved the King his s.h.i.+ps, You must name your own reward.

'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! 110 Demand whate'er you will, 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 On the bearded mouth that spoke, 115 As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue: "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?-- 120 Since 'tis ask and have, I may-- Since the others go ash.o.r.e-- 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. 125

XI

Name and deed alike are lost: Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fis.h.i.+ng smack, 130 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 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! 135 You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve Riel.

So, for better and for worse, Herve Riel, accept my verse!

In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore! 140

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

THE WHITE s.h.i.+P

Henry I[266] of England--25th Nov., 1120

By none but me can the tale be told, The butcher of Rouen,[267] poor Berold.

(_Lands are swayed by a king on a throne._) 'Twas a royal train put forth to sea, Yet the tale can be told by none but me. 5 (_The sea hath no king but G.o.d alone._)

King Henry held it as life's whole gain That after his death his son should reign.

'Twas so in my youth I heard men say, And my old age calls it back to-day. 10

King Henry of England's realm was he, And Henry Duke of Normandy.