If true a
thousand
stand, with them I stand;
A hundred?
A hundred?
Hugo - Poems
"
The princes laughed submissive to the king,
Laughed all the courtiers in their glittering ring,
And thence the laughter spread through all the town.
At the seventh blast--the city walls fell down.
TORU DUTT.
AFTER THE COUP D'ETAT.
_("Devant les trahisons. ")_
[Bk. VII, xvi. , Jersey, Dec. 2, 1852. ]
Before foul treachery and heads hung down,
I'll fold my arms, indignant but serene.
Oh! faith in fallen things--be thou my crown,
My force, my joy, my prop on which I lean:
Yes, whilst _he's_ there, or struggle some or fall,
O France, dear France, for whom I weep in vain.
Tomb of my sires, nest of my loves--my all,
I ne'er shall see thee with these eyes again.
I shall not see thy sad, sad sounding shore,
France, save my duty, I shall all forget;
Amongst the true and tried, I'll tug my oar,
And rest proscribed to brand the fawning set.
O bitter exile, hard, without a term,
Thee I accept, nor seek nor care to know
Who have down-truckled 'mid the men deemed firm,
And who have fled that should have fought the foe.
If true a thousand stand, with them I stand;
A hundred? 'tis enough: we'll Sylla brave;
Ten? put my name down foremost in the band;
One? --well, alone--until I find my grave.
TORU DUTT.
PATRIA. [1]
_("La-haut, qui sourit. ")_
[Bk. VII. vii. , September, 1853. ]
Who smiles there? Is it
A stray spirit,
Or woman fair?
Sombre yet soft the brow!
Bow, nations, bow;
O soul in air,
Speak--what art thou?
In grief the fair face seems--
What means those sudden gleams?
The princes laughed submissive to the king,
Laughed all the courtiers in their glittering ring,
And thence the laughter spread through all the town.
At the seventh blast--the city walls fell down.
TORU DUTT.
AFTER THE COUP D'ETAT.
_("Devant les trahisons. ")_
[Bk. VII, xvi. , Jersey, Dec. 2, 1852. ]
Before foul treachery and heads hung down,
I'll fold my arms, indignant but serene.
Oh! faith in fallen things--be thou my crown,
My force, my joy, my prop on which I lean:
Yes, whilst _he's_ there, or struggle some or fall,
O France, dear France, for whom I weep in vain.
Tomb of my sires, nest of my loves--my all,
I ne'er shall see thee with these eyes again.
I shall not see thy sad, sad sounding shore,
France, save my duty, I shall all forget;
Amongst the true and tried, I'll tug my oar,
And rest proscribed to brand the fawning set.
O bitter exile, hard, without a term,
Thee I accept, nor seek nor care to know
Who have down-truckled 'mid the men deemed firm,
And who have fled that should have fought the foe.
If true a thousand stand, with them I stand;
A hundred? 'tis enough: we'll Sylla brave;
Ten? put my name down foremost in the band;
One? --well, alone--until I find my grave.
TORU DUTT.
PATRIA. [1]
_("La-haut, qui sourit. ")_
[Bk. VII. vii. , September, 1853. ]
Who smiles there? Is it
A stray spirit,
Or woman fair?
Sombre yet soft the brow!
Bow, nations, bow;
O soul in air,
Speak--what art thou?
In grief the fair face seems--
What means those sudden gleams?
