Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
France: Vols. IX–X. 1876–79.
The People’s Reminiscences
By Pierre-Jean de Béranger (1780–1857)O,
Shall echo with his glory!
The humblest shed these fifty years
Shall know no other story.
There shall the idle villagers
To some old dame resort,
And beg her with those good old tales
To make their evenings short.
“What, though they say he did us harm,
Our love this cannot dim;
Come, Granny, talk of him to us;
Come, Granny, talk of him.”
Once did he pass this spot:
’T was long ago; I had, just then,
Begun to boil the pot.
On foot he climbed the hill, whereon
I watched him on his way;
He wore a small three-cornered hat;
His overcoat was gray.
I trembled, near him, till he said,
‘Good day, my dear,’—’t is true.”
“O Granny, Granny, did he speak?
What, Granny! speak to you?”
Through Paris strolled one day,
I saw him go to Notre Dame,
With all his court so gay.
The crowd were charmed with such a show;
Their hearts were filled with pride;
‘What splendid weather for the fête!
Heaven favors him!’ they cried.
Softly he smiled, for God had given
To his fond arms a boy.”
“O, how much joy you must have felt!
O Granny, how much joy!”
To strangers fell a prey,
He seemed alone to hold his ground,
And stand in danger’s way.
One night, as now, I heard a knock,
And soon the door unbarred;
When, O good God! ’t was he himself,
With but a scanty guard.
‘Alas, these wars! these wars!’ he cried,
Whilst seated in this chair.”
“What! Granny, Granny, there he sat?
What! Granny, he sat there?”
Thin wine and hard brown bread;
He dried his clothes, and by the fire
In sleep reclined his head.
Waking, he saw my tears, and cried,
‘Cheer up, good dame; I go
’Neath Paris’ walls to strike for France
One last avenging blow.’
He went; and on the glass be used
Such value I have set,
That I have kept it.” “What! till now?
You have it, Granny, yet?”
To ruin to be led;
He whom a Pope had crowned, alas!
In a lone isle lies dead.
Long time they deemed it false, and said,
‘Soon shall he reappear;
O’er ocean comes he, and the foe
Shall find his master here.’
Ah, what a bitter pang I felt,
When we our error knew!”
“Poor Granny! God will kindly look,
Will kindly look on you.”