Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/344

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IN FRENCH FIELDS.
311

ROLAND.


TO P. T.


NAPOLÉON PEYRAT.

Where our south lands exposed to the warm sun are lying,
You are going, dear friend, like the wind winged and flying,
Already the team seems to fret,
Impatient, unquiet, and with eyes wildly glancing,
Brown beauty Toulouse, in thy sight to be prancing,
On thy plains that none can forget.

God guard you, my friend, but when you have skimmed lightly,
O'er mountains, o'er vales, o'er blue streams that wind brightly,
Towns, hamlets and old citadels,
Vermilion Orleans, and Argenton's rocks hoary,
And Limoges of the three graceful steeples—her glory,
Abundant in swallows and bells;

And Brives and its Corrèze, and Cahors vine-crownèd,
Where Fénelon, swan in Homer's waters renowned,
Swam pleased in his long trails of light,
Stop, stop for a moment your car's course enchanted,
To see the fair plain where the Moslem has planted
Your birthplace—far seen—city white;