Romance As he stepped in front once more, and Not a symptom of surprise Reality In the frank blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before. Then said Damfreville, "My friend, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville." Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?— Since 'tis ask and have, I may— Since the others go ashore Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Romance Belle Aurore!" That he asked and that he got,—nothing more. and Reality Name and deed alike are lost: Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; On a single fishing smack, In memory of the man but for whom had wrack gone to All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. Go to Paris: rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank! You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé So, for better and for worse, Hervé Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore! ROBERT BROWNING. Romance and Reality Vision of Belshazzar. The King was on his throne, In Judah deem'd divine— The godless Heathen's wine. In that same hour and hall, Along the letters ran, And traced them like a wand. The monarch saw, and shook, And tremulous his voice. The wisest of the earth, Chaldea's seers are good, But here they have no skill; Are wise and deep in lore; A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, "Belshazzar's grave is made, The Mede is at his gate! The Persian on his throne!" GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON. Romance and Reality Romance and Solomon and the Bees Reality When Solomon was reigning in his glory, Unto his throne the Queen of Sheba came(So in the Talmud you may read the story)— Drawn by the magic of the monarch's fame, To see the splendors of his court, and bring Some fitting tribute to the mighty King. Nor this alone: much had her highness heard What flowers of learning graced the royal speech; What gems of wisdom dropped with every word; What wholesome lessons he was wont to teach In pleasing proverbs; and she wished, in sooth, To know if Rumor spoke the simple truth. Besides, the Queen had heard (which piqued her most) How through the deepest riddles he could spy; How all the curious arts that women boast Were quite transparent to his piercing eye; And straight she held before the monarch's view, bowers; |