INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP You ROBERT BROWNING know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans Let once my army leader Lannes Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect, (So tight he kept his lips compressed, You looked twice ere you saw his breast "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon ! The marshal's in the market-place, To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire. The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself as sheathes A film the Mother eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes: "You're wounded!" "Nay," his soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed, sire!" And, his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead. CHILDREN GATHERING PALMS From A VISION OF POETS ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING UT hark! a distant sound that grows, BUT A heaving, sinking of the boughs, A rustling murmur, not of those, A breezy noise which is not breeze! Fair little children, morning-bright, - Some plucked the palm-boughs within reach, A rain of dew, till, wetted so, The child that held the branch let go, Of faster drippings, then I knew A frightened song-bird; and a child Who seemed the chief, said, very mild, "Hush! keep this morning undefiled." His eyes rebuked them from calm spheres; In waiting for more holy years. I called the child to me, and said, "What are your palms for?" "To be spread,' He answered, "on a poet dead. "The poet died last month, and now The world, which had been somewhat slow In honouring his living brow, "Commands the palms; they must be strown On his new marble very soon, |