"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

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.

XI

Name and deed alike are lost:

Not a pillar or 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

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, honor France, love thy wife the Belle

Aurore!

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM

[AUGUST 13, 1704]

It was a summer evening;

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage-door
Was sitting in the sun;

And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild, Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round, That he beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found:

She ran to ask what he had found,

That was so large and smooth and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,

"Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in my garden,

For there's many here about; And often, when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin, he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes;

"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."

"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out;
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory.

"My father lived at Blenheim then,

Yon little stream hard by;

They burned his dwelling to the ground,

And he was forced to fly;

So with his wife and child he fled,

Nor had he where to rest his head.

"With fire and sword the country round

Was wasted far and wide,

And many a childing mother then,

And new-born baby, died;

But things like that, you know, must be

At every famous victory.

"They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won;

For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun:

But things like that, you know, must be

After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won

And our good Prince Eugene."

"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"

Said little Wilhelmine.

"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,

"It was a famous victory.

"And everybody praised the Duke,

Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.

"Why, that I cannot tell," said he;

"But 'twas a famous victory."

Robert Southey [1774-1843]

LOVEWELL'S FIGHT

[MAY 8, 1725]

Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to sing,
How valiantly he served his country and his King;
He and his valiant soldiers did range the woods full wide,
And hardships they endured to quell the Indian's pride.

'Twas nigh unto Pigwacket, on the eighth day of May,
They spied a rebel Indian soon after break of day;
He on a bank was walking, upon a neck of land,
Which leads into a pond, as we're made to understand.

Our men resolved to have him, and travelled two miles round Until they met the Indian, who boldly stood his ground; Then spake up Captain Lovewell, "Take you good heed," says he,

"This rogue is to decoy us, I very plainly see.

"The Indians lie in ambush, in some place nigh at hand, In order to surround us upon this neck of land;

Therefore we'll march in order, and each man leave his pack That we may briskly fight them, when they make their attack."

They came unto this Indian, who did them thus defy,
As soon as they came nigh him, two guns he did let fly,
Which wounded Captain Lovewell, and likewise one man

more,

But when this rogue was running, they laid him in his gore.

Then having scalped the Indian, they went back to the spot Where they had laid their packs down, but there they found them not,

For the Indians having spied them, when they them down did lay,

Did seize them for their plunder, and carry them away.

These rebels lay in ambush, this very place hard by,

So that an English soldier did one of them espy,

And cried out, "Here's an Indian!" With that they started out,

As fiercely as old lions, and hideously did shout.

With that our valiant English all gave a loud huzza,
To show the rebel Indians they feared them not a straw:
So now the fight began, and as fiercely as could be,
The Indians ran up to them, but soon were forced to flee.

Then spake up Captain Lovewell, when first the fight began:
"Fight on, my valiant heroes! you see they fall like rain."
For as we are informed, the Indians were so thick
A man could scarcely fire a gun and not some of them hit.

Then did the rebels try their best our soldiers to surround,
But they could not accomplish it, because there was a pond
To which our men retreated, and covered all the rear;
The rogues were forced to face them, although they skulked
for fear.

Two logs there were behind them, that close together lay, Without being discovered, they could not get away; Therefore our valiant English they travelled in a row, And at a handsome distance, as they were wont to go.

'Twas ten o'clock in the morning when first the fight begun,
And fiercely did continue until the setting sun;
Excepting that the Indians some hours before 'twas night
Drew off into the bushes and ceased awhile to fight;

But soon again returned, in fierce and furious mood,
Shouting as in the morning, but yet not half so loud;
For as we are informed, so thick and fast they fell,
Scarce twenty of their number at night did get home well.

And that our valiant English till midnight there did stay,
To see whether the rebels would have another fray;
But they no more returning, they made off towards their
home,

And brought away their wounded as far as they could come.

Of all our valiant English there were but thirty-four,
And of the rebel Indians there were about fourscore.
And sixteen of our English did safely home return,

The rest were killed and wounded, for which we all must

mourn.

Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there did die, They killed Lieutenant Robbins, and wounded good young

Frye,

Who was our English Chaplain; he many Indians slew, And some of them he scalped when bullets round him flew.

Young Fullam, too, I'll mention, because he fought so well; Endeavoring to save a man, a sacrifice he fell: