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THE
MANY-MANSIONED HOUSE
AND OTHER POEMS
By
EDWARD WILLIAM THOMSON
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TO
BRITTANY*
FROM
THE FRENCH OF W. CHAPMAN
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I NEVER trod thy cliffs’ aspiring height,
Nor saw thy pines their golden balsam store,
Nor watched thy balanced shallops winging white,
Yet, Breton land, I love thee evermore.
My
love is strong as thy old oaks at core, |
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Toward
them my heart is often taking flight,
Because we hold, throughout our land, a right
In that pure blood which through my veins doth
pour.
Yes,
thee I love with ancient memories—
Thy reeds, thy heaths where Druid work endures, |
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Thy
storied people and thy shore-beat seas.
And
when returning May with balm allures,
I dream the murmurous evening’s eastern
breeze
Brings airs of perfume vaguely from thy moors.
[Page 142] |
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* Mr. W. Chapman, the French-Canadian
poet, is son to an English father and a French mother.
He was crowned by the Academy of France for his
noble volume Les Aspirations. Mr.
Chapman, to whom both English and French are mother-tongues,
has graciously approved this and the following translations
from his verses. [back] |
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