]
Before foul treachery and heads hung down,
I'll fold my arms, indignant but serene.
Before foul treachery and heads hung down,
I'll fold my arms, indignant but serene.
Hugo - Poems
"
At the third round, the ark of old renown
Swept forward, still the trumpets sounding loud,
And then the troops with ensigns waving proud.
Stepped out upon the old walls children dark
With horns to mock the notes and hoot the ark.
At the fourth turn, braving the Israelites,
Women appeared upon the crenelated heights--
Those battlements embrowned with age and rust--
And hurled upon the Hebrews stones and dust,
And spun and sang when weary of the game.
At the fifth circuit came the blind and lame,
And with wild uproar clamorous and high
Railed at the clarion ringing to the sky.
At the sixth time, upon a tower's tall crest,
So high that there the eagle built his nest,
So hard that on it lightning lit in vain,
Appeared in merriment the king again:
"These Hebrew Jews musicians are, meseems! "
He scoffed, loud laughing, "but they live on dreams. "
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.
At the third round, the ark of old renown
Swept forward, still the trumpets sounding loud,
And then the troops with ensigns waving proud.
Stepped out upon the old walls children dark
With horns to mock the notes and hoot the ark.
At the fourth turn, braving the Israelites,
Women appeared upon the crenelated heights--
Those battlements embrowned with age and rust--
And hurled upon the Hebrews stones and dust,
And spun and sang when weary of the game.
At the fifth circuit came the blind and lame,
And with wild uproar clamorous and high
Railed at the clarion ringing to the sky.
At the sixth time, upon a tower's tall crest,
So high that there the eagle built his nest,
So hard that on it lightning lit in vain,
Appeared in merriment the king again:
"These Hebrew Jews musicians are, meseems! "
He scoffed, loud laughing, "but they live on dreams. "
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.
