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Ask to heart's content and have! or my name 's not Dam

freville.'

X.

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,

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And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but

a run?—

Since 't is ask and have, I may—

Since the others go ashore

Come! A good whole holiday!

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Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore !'

That he asked and that he got-nothing more.

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XI.

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,

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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 !

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You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel.

So, for better and for worse,

Hervé Riel, accept my verse!

In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more

Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife the Belle

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V

CLIVE.

I and Clive were friends-and why not? Friends! I think you laugh, my lad.

Clive it was gave England India, while your father gives,

egad!

England nothing but the graceless boy who lures him on to

speak

'Well, sir, you and Clive were comrades'-with a tongue thrust in your cheek!

Very true in my eyes, your eyes, all the world's eyes, Clive

was man,

5

-I was, am, and ever shall be-mouse, nay, mouse of all its clan

Sorriest sample, if you

take the kitchen's estimate for fame; While the man Clive-he fought Plassy, spoiled the clever

foreign game,

Conquered and annexed and Englished! Never mind! As o'er my punch

(You away) I sit of evenings, - silence, save for biscuit

crunch,

ΙΟ

Black, unbroken,-thought grows busy, thrids each pathway

of old years,

Notes this forthright, that meander, till the long-past life ap

pears

Like an outspread map of country plodded through, each mile and rood,

Once, and well remembered still,-I'm startled in my soli

tude

Ever and anon by--what's the sudden mocking light that breaks

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On me as I slap the table till no rummer-glass but shakes While I ask-aloud, I do believe, God help me!—'Was it

thus?

Can it be that so I faltered, stopped when just one step for us'

(Us,-you were not born, I grant, but surely some day born would be)

'One bold step had gained a province' (figurative talk,

you see),

'Got no end of wealth and honour,-yet I stood stock still no less?'

'For I was not Clive,' you comment: but it needs no Clive to guess

Wealth were handy, honour ticklish, did no writing on the

wall

Warn me 'Trespasser, 'ware man-traps!' Him who braves that notice-call

Hero! None of such heroics suit myself who read plain words,

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Doff my hat, and leap no barrier. Scripture says the land 's the Lord's:

Louts then-what avail the thousand, noisy in a smockfrocked ring,

All agog to have me trespass, clear the fence, be Clive, their king?

Higher warrant must you show me ere I set one foot be

fore

T'other in that dark direction, though I stand forever

more

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Poor as Job and meek as Moses. Evermore? No! By and

by

Job grows rich and Moses valiant, Clive turns out less wise

than I.

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Don't object 'Why call him friend, then?' -Power is power,

my boy, and still

Marks a man,-God's gift magnific, exercised for good or

ill.

You 've your boot now on my hearth-rug, tread what was a tiger's skin:

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Rarely such a royal monster as I lodged the bullet in!
True, he murdered half a village, so his own death came to

pass;

Still for size and beauty, cunning, courage-ah, the brute he

was!

Why, that Clive, that youth, that greenhorn, that quill-driving clerk, in fine,

He sustained a siege in Arcot- But the world knows! Pass the wine.

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Where did I break off at? How bring Clive in? Oh, you mentioned 'fear'!

Just so: and, said I, that minds me of a story you shall hear.

We were friends then, Clive and I; so, when the clouds, about the orb

Late supreme, encroaching slowly, surely, threatened to absorb

Ray by ray its noontide brilliance,-friendship might, with steadier eye

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Drawing near, bear what had burned else, now no blaze, all majesty.

Too much bee's-wing floats my figure? Well, suppose a castle's new:

None presume to climb its ramparts, none find foothold sure

for shoe

'Twixt those squares and squares of granite plating the im

pervious pile

As his scale-mail's warty iron cuirasses a crocodile.

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