Practice Book | Page 4

spoke or heard;?For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these A captain? A lieutenant? A mate--first, second, third?
No such man of mark, and meet?With his betters to compete!?But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet-- A poor coasting pilot he, Herv�� Riel the Croisickese.
And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herv�� Riel; "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell,?'Twixt the offing here and Gr��ve, where the river disembogues? Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?
Morn and eve, night and day,?Have I piloted your bay,?Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.?Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way!
Only let me lead the line,?Have the biggest ship to steer,?Get this 'Formidable' clear,?Make the others follow mine,?And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,
Right to Solidor, past Gr��ve,?And there lay them safe and sound;?And if one ship misbehave,--?Keel so much as grate the ground,?Why, I've nothing but my life,--and here's my head!" cries Herv�� Riel.
Not a minute more to wait.?"Steer us in, then, small and great!?Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief.
"Captains, give the sailor place!?He is Admiral, in brief."?Still the north-wind, by God's grace!?See the noble fellow's face?As the big ship with a bound,?Clears the entry like a hound,?Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound!
See, safe through shoal and rock,?How they follow in a flock.?Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,
Not a spar that comes to grief!?The peril, see, is past,?All are harbored to the last,?And just as Herv�� Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate,
Up the English come, too late.
So, the storm subsides to calm;?They see the green trees wave?On the heights o'erlooking Gr��ve.?Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.?"Just our rapture to enhance,?Let the English rake the bay,?Gnash their teeth and glare askance?As they cannonade away!?Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!
Out burst all with one accord,?"This is Paradise for hell!?Let France, let France's king,?Thank the man that did the thing!"?What a shout, and all one word,
"Herv�� Riel!"?As he stepped in front once more,?Not a symptom of surprise?In the frank blue Breton eyes,?Just the same man as before.
Then said Damfreville, "My friend,?I must speak out at the end,?Though I find the speaking hard.?Praise is deeper than the lips;?You have saved the King his ships,?You must name your own reward.?Faith, our sun was near eclipse!?Demand whate'er you will,?France remains your debtor still?Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfreville!"
Then a beam of fun outbroke?On the bearded mouth that spoke,?As the honest heart laughed through?Those frank eyes of Breton blue:?"Since I needs must say my say,?Since on board the duty's done,?And from Malo roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?--
Since 'tis ask and have, I may--?Since the others go ashore--?Come! A good whole holiday!?Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"
That he asked, and that he got--nothing more.?Name and deed alike are lost:?Not a pillar nor a post?In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;?Not a head in white and black?On a single fishing-smack,?In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack?All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell.
Go to Paris; rank on rank?Search the heroes flung pell-mell?On the Louvre, face and flank!?You shall look long enough ere you come to Herv�� Riel.
So, for better and for worse,?Herv�� Riel, accept my verse!?In my verse, Herv�� Riel, do thou once more?Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore!
ROBERT BROWNING.

LOCHINVAR.
I.
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,--?Through all the wild border his steed was the best!?And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had none,--?He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.?So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,?There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
II.
He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone;?He swam the Eske river where ford there was none.?But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,?The bride had consented, the gallant came late;?For a laggard in love and a dastard in war?Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
III.
So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,?'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:?Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword?(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word)?"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,?Or to dance at our bridal, young