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(From Mirèio)
Translated by Harriet W. Preston
OUR captain was Bailly Suffren; | |
| We had sailed from Toulon, | |
| Five hundred seafaring Provençaux, | |
| Stout-hearted and strong: | |
| ’T was the sweet hope of meeting the English that made our hearts burn, | 5 |
| And till we had thrashed them we vowed we would never return. | |
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| But all the first month of our cruise | |
| We saw never a thing | |
| From the shrouds, save hundreds and hundreds | |
| Of gulls on the wing; | 10 |
| And in the next dolorous month we ’d a tempest to fight, | |
| And had to be bailing out water by day and by night. | |
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| By the third, we were driven to madness | |
| At meeting no foe | |
| For our thundering cannon to sweep | 15 |
| From the ocean. When lo! | |
| “Hands aloft!” Captain cried. At the maintop one heard the command, | |
| And the long Arab coast on the lee-bow intently he scanned. | |
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| Till, “God’s thunder!” he cried. “Three big vessels | |
| Bear down on us strong; | 20 |
| Run the guns to the ports! Blaze away!” | |
| Shouted Bailly Suffren. | |
| “Sharp, lads! Of our Antibes figs we will give them a taste, | |
| And see how they like those,” Captain said, “ere we offer the rest!” | |
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| A crash fit to deafen! Before | 25 |
| The words left his lips | |
| We had sent forty balls through the hulls | |
| Of the Englishers’ ships! | |
| One was done for already. And now the guns only heard we, | |
| The cracking of wood and perpetual groan of the sea. | 30 |
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| And now we were closing. O, rapture! | |
| We lay alongside, | |
| And our gallant commander stood cool | |
| On the deck, and he cried, | |
| “Well done, my brave boys! But enough! Cease your firing, I say, | 35 |
| For the time has come now to anoint them with oil of Aix.” | |
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| Then we sprang to our dirks and our hatchets, | |
| As they had been toys; | |
| And, grapnel in hand, the Provençal | |
| Cried, “Board ’em, my boys!” | 40 |
| A shout and a leap, and we stood on the Englishers’ deck; | |
| And then, ah, ’t was then we were ready our vengeance to wreak! | |
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| Then, O, the great slaughter! The crash | |
| Of the mainmast ensuing! | |
| And the blows and the turmoil of men | 45 |
| Fighting on mid the ruin! | |
| More than one wild Provençal I saw seize a foe in his place, | |
| And hug till he strained his own life out in deadly embrace. | |
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| So with blood-dabbled feet fought we on | |
| Four hours, until dark. | 50 |
| Then, our eyes being cleared of the powder, | |
| We missed from our bark | |
| Fivescore men. But the king of the English lost ships of renown: | |
| Three good vessels with all hands on board to the bottom went down. | |
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| And now, our sides riddled with shot, | 55 |
| Once more homeward hie we, | |
| Yards splintered, masts shivered, sails tattered; | |
| But brave Captain Bailly | |
| Spake us words of good cheer. “My comrades, ye have done well! | |
| To the great king of Paris the tale of your valor I ’ll tell!” | 60 |
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| “Well said, Captain dear!” we replied: | |
| “Sure the king will hear you | |
| When you speak. But for us, his poor mariners, | |
| What will he do,— | |
| Who left our all gladly, our homes and our firesides,” we said, | 65 |
| “For his sake, and lo! now in those homes there is crying for bread? | |
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| “Ah, Admiral, never forget | |
| When all bow before you, | |
| With a love like the love of your seamen | |
| None will adore you! | 70 |
| Why, say but the word, and, ere homeward our footsteps we turn, | |
| Aloft on the tips of our fingers a king you are borne!” | |
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| A Martigau, mending his nets | |
| One eve, made this ditty. | |
| Our admiral bade us farewell, | 75 |
| And sought the great city. | |
| Were they wroth with his glory up there at the court? Who can say? | |
| But we saw our beloved commander no more from that day! | |
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