Classic Poem

La restauration de la chanson.

Yes, Muse of Song! yes, mistress mine!
?I did declare it true,
That with their Charles, and Charles's line,
?They had dethroned thee too:
But every law that now they give
Bids thee once more amongst us live
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
I thought that something new and great
?For us they might design:
Perchance that they might elevate
?The sphere of '89:
But no, not so—a blackened throne
They are re-plastering alone
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
Take note, how, since December's days,
?To strengthen its own cause,
The Chamber sounds the Chamber's praise;
?The Chamber shouts applause,
Impressing on itself a sense
Of its own super-excellence
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
Fowl-yard of Ministries, confessed
?By Frenchmen a disgrace—
Our capons shall secure their nest,
?Hereditary race!
The chicks, that Heaven shall send them, may
There, too, their eggs in safety lay.
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
Long be the Civic Guard extolled,
?That pedestal of law!
They, who the public peace uphold,
?For rights the sword may draw:
Some one, I'm thinking, up on high
Looks on them with unquiet eye
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
The doctrinary planet threw
?O'er Ghent its genial light—
Men of July! that star for you
?Would now beam just as bright:
Fie on the cold autumnal sun,
Obscured in vapors, drear and dun!
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
Our Ministers—whom one may rate
?At the same value, all—
In our barometer of state
?Would have no rise and fall:
Thunders it there but slightly— here
They cross themselves in sudden fear
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
To keep, themselves, the road to grace,
?How do the coward great
Take pains to leave possessed of place
?Men sadly out of date!
But if untouched these fellows go,
It is—in order that if so
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
'Tis thus, O Song! that they restore
?Thee, dearest mistress mine!
Then mount, for aye, the Tricolor;
?And be no livery thine!
No more in prison shall they mure thee;
At least at Poissy, I'll assure thee!
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”
Still my worn soil thou should'st not use;
?Pray, let that fallow lie:
My younger rivals, dearest Muse,
?Enjoy so bright a sky!
Emblem of joy, the rose is theirs—
Mine but the marigold, and cares!
O Song, take up thy crown again!
—“A thousand thanks, good gentlemen!”