Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, Though I find the speaking hard. 105 Praise is deeper than the lips; You have saved the King his ships, You must name your own reward. 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! Demand whate'er you will, 110 France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville."
Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through 115 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?-- Since 'tis 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. 125 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 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. 135 So, for better and for worse, Hervé Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore!
Good, to forgive; Best, to forget! Living, we fret; Dying, we live. Fretless and free, 5 Soul, clap thy pinion! Earth have dominion, Body, o'er thee!
Wander at will, Day after day-- 10 Wander away, Wandering still-- Soul that canst soar! Body may slumber: Body shall cumber 15 Soul-flight no more.
Waft of soul's wing! What lies above? Sunshine and Love, Skyblue and Spring! 20 Body hides--where? Ferns of all feather, Mosses and heather. Yours be the care!
Such a starved bank of moss Till, that May-morn, Blue ran the flash across: Violets were born!
Sky--what a scowl of cloud 5 Till, near and far, Ray on ray split the shroud: Splendid, a star!
World--how it walled about Life with disgrace 10 Till God's own smile came out: That was thy face!
What a pretty tale you told me Once upon a time --Said you found it somewhere (scold me!) Was it prose or was it rhyme, Greek or Latin? Greek, you said, 5 While your shoulder propped my head.