Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

67

THE HELL-GATE OF SOISSONS 1

HERBERT KAUFMAN

My name is Darino, the poet. You have heard? Oui, Comédie Française.2

Perchance it has happened, mon ami,3 you know of my unworthy lays.

Ah, then you must guess how my fingers are itching to talk to a pen;

For I was at Soissons, and saw it, the death of the twelve Englishmen.

My leg, malheureusement, I left it behind on the banks of the Aisne.

Regret? I would pay with the other to witness their valor

again.

A trifle, indeed I assure you, to give for the honor to tell How that handful of British, undaunted, went into the Gateway of Hell.

Let me draw you a plan of the battle. Here we French and your Engineers stood;

Over there a detachment of German sharp-shooters lay hid in a wood.

A mitrailleuse 5 battery planted on top of this well-chosen

ridge

Held the road for the Prussians and covered the direct approach to the bridge.

1. Soissons. A city on the Aisne river, France, along which was much severe fighting in the early part of the war begun in 1914. 2. Oui, etc. The poet was probably connected with this well-known theater.

[blocks in formation]

It was madness to dare the dense murder that spewed from those ghastly machines.

(Only those who have danced to its music can know what the mitrailleuse means.)

But the bridge on the Aisne was a menace; our safety demanded its fall:

"Engineers, volunteers!" In a body, the Royals stood out at the call.

Death at best was the fate of that mission—to their glory not one was dismayed.

A party was chosen-and seven survived till the powder

was laid,

And they died with their fuses unlighted.

detachment! Again

Another

A sortie is made-all too vainly. The bridge still commanded the Aisne.

We were fighting two foes-Time and Prussia-the moments were worth more than the troops.

We must blow up the bridge. A lone soldier darts out from the Royals and swoops

For the fuse! Fate seems with us. We cheer him; he answers our hopes are reborn!

A ball rips his visor-his khaki shows red where another has torn.

Will he live-will he last-will he make it? Hélas!" And so near the goal!

A second, he dies! then a third one! A fourth! Still the Germans take toll!

6. Royals. A special detachment of English engineers.

7. Hélas. Alas!

8

A fifth, magnifique! It is magic! How does he escape them? He may

Yes, he does! See, the match flares! A rifle rings out from the wood and says "Nay!"

Six, seven, eight, nine take their places, six, seven, eight, nine brave their hail;

Six, seven, eight, nine-how we count them! But the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth fail!

A tenth! Sacré nom! But these English are soldiersthey know how to try;

(He fumbles the place where his jaw was)-they show, too, how heroes can die.

Ten we count-ten who ventured unquailing-ten there were-and ten are no more!

Yet another salutes and superbly essays where the ten failed before.

God of Battles, look down and protect him! Lord, his heart is as Thine-let him live!

But mitrailleuse splutters and stutters, and riddles him into a sieve.

Then I thought of my sins, and sat waiting the charge that we could not withstand.

And I thought of my beautiful Paris, and gave a last look at the land,

At France, my belle France,10 in her glory of blue sky and green field and wood.

Death with honor, but never surrender. And to die with such men-it was good.

[blocks in formation]

They are forming-the bugles are blaring-they will cross in a moment and then

....

When out of the line of the Royals (your island, mon ami, breeds men)

Burst a private, a tawny-haired giant-it was hopeless, but, ciel! 11 how he ran!

Bon Dieu 12 please remember the pattern, and make many more on his plan!

No cheers from our ranks, and the Germans, they halted in wonderment too;

See; he reaches the bridge; ah! he lights it! I am dreaming, it cannot be true.

Screams of rage! Fusillade! 13 They have killed him! Too late though, the good work is done.

By the valor of twelve English martyrs, the Hell-Gate of Soissons is won!

68

THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND 1

ROBERT BROWNING

That second time they hunted me

From hill to plain, from shore to sea,

And Austria, hounding far and wide

Her blood-hounds through the country-side,

11. Ciel. Heaven.

12. Bon Dieu. Good God.

13.

Fusillade. A general discharge of firearms.

1. For many years Italy struggled for freedom from Austria, and for unification. Metternich, prime minister of Austria, was one of Italy's most determined and hated enemies. The Charles in the poem, a historical character, was an Italian generally considered a traitor. The speaker is an Italian patriot in England, telling of one of his narrow escapes. "The incident is not historical, though something of the kind might well have happened to any of the Italian patriots in their revolt against Austrian domination."-Berdoe, Browning Encyclopedia.

[ocr errors]

Breathed hot and instant on my trace,—
I made six days a hiding-place

Of that dry green old aqueduct

Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked
The fire-flies from the roof above,

Bright creeping through the moss they love:
-How long it seems since Charles was lost!
Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed
The country in my very sight;

And when that peril ceased at night,
The sky broke out in red dismay
With signal fires; well, there I lay
Close covered o'er in my recess,
Up to the neck in ferns and cress,
Thinking on Metternich our friend,
And Charles's miserable end,

And much beside, two days; the third,
Hunger o'ercame me when I heard
The peasants from the village go
To work among the maize; you know,
With us in Lombardy, they bring
Provisions packed on mules, a string
With little bells that cheer their task,
And casks, and boughs on every cask
To keep the sun's heat from the wine;
These I let pass in jingling line,
And, close on them, dear noisy crew,
The peasants from the village, too;
For at the very rear would troop
Their wives and sisters in a group
To help, I knew. When these had passed
I threw my glove to strike the last,
Taking the chance: she did not start,
Much less cry out, but stooped apart,
One instant rapidly glanced round,
And saw me beckon from the ground;

« AnteriorContinuar »