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SONGS FOR BOYHOOD. |
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THE SEA-FIGHT OF BAILLY SUFFKEN.
From the Provencal of Frederic Mistral. Translated by Har�riet W. Preston.
Our captain was Bailly Suffren;
We had sailed from Toulon Five hundred sea-faring Provencaux, Stout-hearted and strong: 'Twas the sweet hope of meeting the English that
made our hearts burn, And till we had thrashed them we vowed we would never return.
But all the first month of our cruise
We saw never a thing From the shrouds, save hundreds and hundreds Of gulls on the wing. And in the next dolorous month we'd a tempest
to fight, And had to be bailing out water by day and by night.
By the third, we were driven to madness
At meeting no foe For our thundering cannon to sweep From the ocean. When lo! "Hands aloft!" captain cried. At the maintop
one heard the command, And the long Arab coast on the lee-bow intently he scanned.
Till " God's thunder!" he cried. " Three big ves�sels Bear down on us strong; Run the guns to the ports! Blaze away!" Shouted Bailly Suffren. " Sharp, lads! Of our Antibes figs we will give
them a taste, And see how they like those," captain said, " ere we offer the rest!"
A crash fit to deafen! Before
The words left his lips, We had sent forty balls through the hulls Of the Englisher's ships ! One was aone for already. And now the guns
only heard we, The cracking of wood, and perpetual groan of the sea.
And now we were closing. Oh, rapture! We lay along-side. |
And our gallant commander stood cooi On the deck, and he cried, " Well done, my brave boys! But enough! Cease
your firing, I say; For the time has come now to anoint them with oil of Aix."
Then we sprung to our dirks and our hatchets,
As they had been toys; And, grapnel in hand, the Provencal Cried, " Board 'em, my boys!" A shout and a leap, and we stood on the English�er's deck; And then, ah! 'twas then we were ready our vengeance to wreak!
Then, oh, the great slaughter! The crash
Of the mainmast ensuing! And the blows and the turmoil of men Fighting on 'mid the ruin! More than one wild Provencal I saw seize a foe in
his place, And hug till he strained his own life out in dead�ly embrace.
So with blood-dabbled feet fought we on
For hours, until dark. Then, our eyes being cleared of the pow�der, We missed from our bark Five-score men. But the king of the English lost
ships of renown : Three good vessels, with all hands on board, to the bottom went down.
And now, our sides riddled with shot,
Once more homeward hie we, Yards splintered, masts shivered, sails tattered. But brave Captain Bailly Spake us good words of cheer: " My comrades, ye
have done well! To the great king of Paris the tale of your valor I'll tell!"
" Well said, captain dear!" we replied :
" Sure the king will hear you When you speak. But for us, his poor mar�iners, What will he do� Who left our all gladly, our homes and our fire�sides," we said, " For his sake, and lo! now in those homes there is crying for bread ? |
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