A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/The Clarions of Thought (Les Châtiments, Victor Hugo)
Sound, sound for ever clarions of thought!
When Joshua 'gainst the high-walled city fought,
He marched around it with his head raised high,
His troops in serried order following nigh,
But not a sword was drawn, no blood outsprang,
Only the trumpets the shrill onset rang.
At the first round smiled scornfully the king,
And at the second said, half-wondering,
'Hop'st thou with noise my fortress to break down?'
At the third turn, the ark of old renown
Went forward, then the trumpets sounding loud,
And then the troops with ensigns waving proud.
Stepped out upon the old walls children dark,
With horns to mock the notes, and hiss the ark.
At the fourth turn, braving the Israelites,
Women appeared on crenulated heights—
The battlements embrowned with age and rust—
And hurled upon the Hebrews stones and dust,
And spun and sang when weary of the game.
At the fifth time up came the blind and lame,
And with wild uproar clamorous and high,
Railed at the clarion ringing in the sky.
At the sixth time, upon a tower's high crest,
So high that there the eagle built his nest,
So hard that on it lightnings struck in vain,
Appeared in merriment the king again;
'These Hebrews good musicians are, it seems,'
He said, loud laughing, 'but they live on dreams.'
The princes laughed, submissive to the king,
Laughed all the courtiers in a glittering ring,
And thence the laughter spread through all the town.
At the seventh time, the solid walls fell down.