In a mossy minaret Fathoms under, I am set. All the sea-shapes undulating At my gates forlorn are waiting, All the dreary faint-eyed people Watch me in my hollow steeple, While the glass-clear city heaves Oft beneath its earthy eaves. So in sorrow, sorrow, sorrow Yestereven and to-morrow, Thro’ the æons, in a cell Hangs Saint Cadoc’s loveless bell, Orbèd, like a mortal’s tear, On the moony atmosphere, Bearing, the refrain of time, Memory, and unrest, and crime. Thou that hast the world sublime! I that was free, I am lost, I am damned, I am here! And whenever a child among men by a blow is dead, Docile for aye from the deeps must I lift my head, And from the heathen heart of me that breaks, The unextinguishable music wakes, Naught availing, naught deterred. And the sailor heareth me, Even as thou, alas! hast heard, Fallen in awe upon thy knee, Tolling and wailing, bursting and failing, afar in the ominous sea. A CHOUAN. FROM the school-porch at Vannes Weaponed, the children ran; One little voice began, Lark-like ascended: ‘Treason is on the wing, Black vows, and menacing: March, boys! God save the King!’ Allio ended. Singing, with sunny head, Battleward straight he led, Stones for his captain’s bed, Herbs for his diet: He and his legion brave, Trouble enough they gave! Ere the Blues’ bullets drave Them into quiet. Spared, with a few as bold, Once the storm over-rolled, Allio, twelve years old, Crept from the clamor; Came, when the days were brief, To the old desk in grief, Thumbing anew the leaf Of the old grammar. Kings out!... rang the chime, Kings in!... answered Time. In his ignoring clime, Silent, he studied; Till, ere his youth was done, For him, the chosen one, Shepherd disclaimed of none, Aaron’s rod budded. Long, in unbroken round, Peace on his paths he found; Saw the glad Breton ground Husbanded, quarried: Blessed it, the record saith, All the years he had breath, Till the dim eightieth Snowed on his forehead. President!... Emperor!... President!... On the floor Spake a sharp Senator Widening his ranges: ‘From Paris I impeach Vannes for disloyal speech; Send thither troops to teach, How the world changes!’ Down on the peasants then Rode the Republic’s men, Trampling the corn again, Miring the flowers; Hewed thro’ the rebels nigh, Scoffed at the women’s cry, Set the tricolor high On the church towers.