1823.] 
The stirring lines that follow were 
laid great stress upon by the Attorney- 
general for Paris at De Berénger’s 
trial, Which terminated with a verdict 
of guilty on tke fourth count of the 
indictment, ‘‘ for an outrage on public 
morality and religion ;” andasentence 
of imprisonment for three months. 
De mes vieux compagnons de gloire 
Je viens de me voir entouré ; 
NG@s sottvenirs m’ont enivré; 
Le vin m’a rendu la memoire. 
Fiers de mes exploits et leurs 
J’ai mon drapeau dans nia chaumiére. 
Quand secourai-je la poussiére 
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs ! 
Oi je dors panvre et mutilé 
Il est caché sous l’lumble paille, 
Lui qui sir de vaincre a volé 
Vingt ans de bataille en bataille! 
Chargé de lauriers et de fleurs, 
Ii brilla sur Europe entiére. 
_ Quand secourai-je la poussiére 
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs! 
Ce drapeau payait ala France 
‘Tout le sang qu'il nous a couté : 
Sons la sein de la Jiberté 
Nos fils jonaient avec sa lance. 
Qu’il prouve encore aux oppresseurs 
Combien la gloire est roturiére ! 
Quand secourai-je la poussiére 
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs! 
Son aigle est resté dans la poudre 
Fatigué des lointains exploits: 
 Rendons lai le coq des Gaulois 
I) shtaussi lancer la foudre. 
La France oubliante ses douleurs 
\ Le rebénira libre et fiére: 
» Quand secourai-je la poussiére 
Qui ternit ses nobles coulenrs! 
Las d’errer avec la victoire 
Des lois il deviendra Pappui ; 
Chaque soldat fit grace.a Ini 
Citoyen au borde de la Loire. 
Seulil peut voiler nos malheurs, 
Deployons-le sur la frontiére : 
Quand secourai-je la poussiere 
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs! 
Mais il est 14 prés de mes armes, 
Un instant osonsl’entrevoir ; 
Viens mon drapeau, viens mon éspoir, 
C'est a toi essuyer. mes larmes. 
D'un guerrier qui yerse des pleurs 
Le ciel entendra la priére: 
‘Quand secourai-je la poussicre 
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs ! 
; ' Translation. 
Souls that careei’d in war with fame, 
Have just a comrade’s threshold past ; 
How sad the parting look they cast, 
Bright o’er our cups how memory came } 
Proud, of those feats of matchless, proof, 
Our colours lie neath this mean roof ; 
When, chasing, shall the brave be seen, 
(Phe dust that dims their noble sheen! 
- De Berenger’s Poems, with Translation. 
213 
There poorand mangled where T rest, 
. Fhey wrap the straw that makes my. bed, 
Full twenty years from strife that led); 
To strife by valour e’er caress’diz © y jp 
All laurell’d, bright, by, victory flower'd, 
Their fearful shade o’er Europe;pour’d; 
When, waving, shall the brave be seen, 
The dust that dims their noble sheen? 
That flag has well repaid our France: 
The noble blood it won to tlow,; 
At Freedom’s-breast in generous glow 
Our children sported with her lance. 
Still to oppression may they prove 
The people’s heart makes glory’s love; 
When, chasing, shall the brave be seen, 
The dust that dims their noble slieent - 
Pois’d, tir’d of war, i’ th’ midmost sky, 
Intent her eagle’s plume is drest : 
O, crown the beak with Gauls proud 
cresf, 
And he shall Jaunch the bolts on high, 
Then France, forgetful of her woes, 
Shall bless him free and in repose ; 
And, chasing, shall the brave be seen, 
The dust that dims their noble sheen! 
Wandering no more in Victory’s car, 
He then shall best uphold the laws,— 
By Loire’s fair bank who won applause ; 
—A citizen, each son of war,— 
Alone these flags our grief may hide, 
‘Then o’er the frontier wave their pride ; 
And, chasing, shall the brave be seen, 
The dust that dims their noble sheen! 
Bat there beneath my rnsty arms : 
A moment courts they wonted scope; 
Unfurl my flag,—thon dearest hope,— 
Dry each big tear, quell our alarms, 
And heaven shall hear the soldier’s pray’r, 
Thy former joy who weeps to share; 
And, chasing, shall tlhe brave be seen, 
The dust that dims thy noble sheen! 
These lines display with much force 
their authoy’s particular strength: the 
enthusiasm of his nationality, the. 
freedom of his imagination, and the 
vigor with which he has embodied 
them in verse,—a great usurpation in 
the literature of’ his country,—have 
deservedly established him im igreat 
popularity. ' Familiarity in phrases is’ 
with difficulty surmountable in French 
poetry; and perhaps the greatest de- 
traction fron’ De Berenger’s merit, is 
the frequency with which he becomes 
low in thought. ‘The allusion, to Na- 
poleon, in the preceding ode, as le 
coq des Gaulois, is’an instance of the 
vulgatity to which he is betrayed; in 
some of his love-songs, he is at times 
not only indelicate, but repulsive. 
Except in the two volumes which 
occasioned his imprisonment, De Be- 
renger has not appeared in- print: 
even those volumes have been formally 
sup- 
