With a voice that is full of tears, TO THE RIVER YVETTE LOVELY river of Yvette! O darling river! like a bride, Some dimpled, bashful, fair Lisette, Thou goest to wed the Orge's tide. Maincourt, and lordly Dampierre, The valley of Chevreuse in vain Would hold thee in its fond embrace ; Thou glidest from its arms again And hurriest on with swifter pace. Thou wilt not stay; with restless feet Thou goest as one in haste to meet Her sole desire, her heart's delight. O lovely river of Yvette! O darling stream! on balanced wings 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. N St. Bavon's tower, commanding Half of Flanders, his domain, Charles the Emperor once was standing, Stood Duke Alva and his train. Like a print in books of fables, Lay the city far below. Through its squares and streets and alleys As a routed army rallies, Or as rivers run through valleys, Hurrying to their homes they went. "Nest of Lutheran misbelievers!" Let it to the ground be razed!" On the Emperor's cap the feather A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH FLEET A OCTOBER, 1746. MR. THOMAS PRINCE, loquitur. FLEET with flags arrayed Sailed from the port of Brest, Had sworn by cross and crown Our helpless Boston Town. There were rumors in the street, And the danger hovering near. 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, 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 brA Blew the October gale. utong The fleet it overtook, And the broad sails in the van Like the tents of Cushan shook, Or the curtains of Midian. J Down on the reeling decks Crashed the o'erwhelming seas; Ah, never were there wrecks 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 When thou didst walk in wrath LA be, With thine horses through the sea! |