tage and your ham,
And this cloth--such as I am
Are not used to--save it too.

But she heard not what I said--
Filled my glass and cut the bread:
"Soldier, it is here for you!"

Good old woman--sheets for me!
Faith, you treat me royally:
And your stable? on your hay?
There at length my limbs to lay?
I shall sleep like monarchs true.

But she would not be denied
Of the sheets, and spread them wide:
"Soldier, it is made for you!"

Morning came--the parting tear:
Well--good-by! What have we here?
My old knapsack full of food!
Dear old creature--hostess good--
Why indulge me as you do?

It was all that she could say,
Smiling in a tearful way:
"I have one at war like you!"

Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Thomas
Walsh.

"GOOD FIGHTING!"

From 'Poemes Militaires'

The Kroumirs leave their mountain den;
Sing, bullets, sing! and bugles, blow!
Good fighting to our gallant men,
And happy they who follow, when,
Brothers in arms so dear, these go.

Yea, happy they who serve our France,
And neither pain nor danger fly;
But in the front of war's advance
Still deem it but a glorious chance,
To be among the brave who die!

No splendid war do we begin,
No glory waits us when 'tis past;
But marching through the fiery din,
We see our serried ranks grow thin,
And blood of Frenchmen welling fast.

French blood!--a treasure so august,
And hoarded with such jealous care,
To crush oppression's strength unjust,
With all the force of right robust,
And buy us back our honor fair:--

We yield it now to duty's claim,
And freely pour out all our store;
Who judges, frees us still from blame;
The Kroumirs' muskets war proclaim:--
In answer let French cannon roar!

Good fighting! and God be your shield,
Our pride's avengers, brave and true!
France watches you upon the field.
Who wear her colors never yield,
For 'tis her heart ye bear with you!

Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Katharine
Hillard.

LAST WISHES

From 'Poemes Militaires'

A grave for me--a grave--and why?
I do not wish to sleep alone:
Let me within the trenches lie,