They will speak of all his glory1
Round the fire for many a day ;2
Lowly hearths will hear his story,3
When all other themes decay.4
Villagers at eve will cry5
To some dame with temples grey,6
With the tale of times gone by,7
Grandame, while an hour away.8
Though he toiled us sore,” they’ll say,9
Yet his name we still revere ;10
His fame no time can dim :11
Of him, good mother, let us hear12
Oh speak to us of him !”13
Through this village, children, know,14
King-attended, did he pass ;15
Ah, how long it is ago !16
Newly wedded then I was.17
Where to look on him I sat,18
Up the hill he made his way,19
Drest in treble-peakéd hat,20
And with riding-suit of grey.21
Much abashed I felt that day,22
But he cried, ‘ Good morn, my dear,’23
Good morn, my dear,’ he cried.”24
Then he spoke, grandame, when near ?25
He spoke when by your side ?”26
In another twelvemonth’s date,27
Then I saw him once again28
Walk to Notre-Dame in state,29
Followed by his courtly train.30
Pleasure beamed in every eye,31
All admired the great display ;32
Glorious time !’ was then the cry,33
Heaven favours him alway !’34
Ah, how sweet his smile that day !35
Heaven willed that he a sire became36
One son rejoiced his view !”37
Oh what a day for you, grandame !38
How bright a day for you !”39
When the land of France anon40
Fell a prey to stranger hordes,41
Braving every foe alone,42
Strove he to unloose our cords.43
Scarce a day it seems to me,44
Since a knock came to my door ;45
Opening it—good Heavens ! ’twas he !46
With an escort small and poor.47
Where I sit, he sat before ;48
Oh this war!’ did he exclaim,49
Oh what a war of care !’ ”50
Was he seated there, grandame ?51
Oh was he seated there ?”52
Hunger prest him sore, and I53
Had to give but bread and beer.54
Then his dress he tried to dry,55
And awhile he slumbered here.56
Much I wept, but, when awake,57
He exclaimed, ‘ Be hopeful still !58
Paris soon shall see me take59
Vengeance fit for France’s ill !’60
I have kept, and ever will,61
Like gem of price, the glass—the same62
From which he drank that night.”63
Have you still the glass, grandame ?64
Oh give it to our sight !”65
See it here. But foemen found66
Strength to lay the hero low ;67
He whose brows a pope had crowned,68
Sleeps afar where sea-waves flow.69
Long we disbelieved his loss,70
Crying, ‘ He will re-appear !71
Soon the ocean he will cross,72
And our foes will find their peer !’73
When the truth became too clear,74
Sore, indeed, was my distress,75
As heavy as the ill !”76
But, grandame, kind Heaven will bless77
Will cheer and bless you still !”78