Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1918-08-28
THE GOWNSMAN

What an efloS was this of mine! The
heart of Botrel was much nearer 20 our
heroes than was mine, These brave French
men loved those songs and their splendid
words. These words expressed
their own feelings. and they found them
natural as their own" In a word, as IN
old time, Botrel was only the artistic form
glver of the sentiments and feelings OF bis
kind. Our unhappy reversion to the primitive
condition of human warfare had broush:
with it a happier return-at least in France
to the equally primitive condition Of a poetry
Of the people.
AND the songs themselves? They are of
"A considerable range in tone and subject
songs of the march, literally of the trench,
of battle, of patriotic sentiment and devo-
ton songs in the person of the typical
soldier-peasant. such as "Avec Mes Sabots'
C"With My Wooden Shoes" which are put
TO astonishing uses. from boats in the
trenches to successful weapons applied to
German heads OF similar materially. A touch
ing poem tells, in dialogue, of mass, cele-
brated without church, altar. vestment or
bell, By a sergeant-priest and OF the spirit
of God in the hearts of the worshipers as
they kneel under the open sky. In another'
La Petite Maman,' takes devotedly her
second place to the true mother of her peas
ant boy. their beloved France. Among the
humorous and satirical poems. which are
full of Gallo salt, the barbarian hoche Is
Knocked, his gas. his great Bertha, the poll
tics, vain-glory, pomp and pretensions of the
Kaiser and those about him. All is easy,
clear, trenchant and admirably versihed
and, If we may judge. as admirably set TO
fitting and catchy tunes.
NULL aware of the difficulty of trans
Il ferring from one language to any other
the spirit of such poetry, The Gownsman.
none the less. offers this translation of a
patriotic song of Theodore Botrel. "Chanson-
nier aux Armees." The measures of the
original are preserved and the rhymes as
nearly as possible. He regrets that this is
all that he has space for. 1t may perhaps
be promised that Jacques Bonhomme is not
so much the French John Bull or Uncle
Sam as the Frenchman in the street, in the
market place, at the pillow:
The Flag Of jacques Bonhomme
The flag that floats for Jacques Bonhomms
Dates not from yesterday;
That flag through full a hundred wars
Has made a glorious way.
Forget it not, a peoples hope,
A nations pride and cheer;
Float, float. flag of France,
Jacques Bonhomme Is here.
Clothilde, it was, or Genevieve,
Who, with a swords keen blade,
Clipping her rich queens mantle,
A royal standard made.
To some tall chief she gave it,
Who raised 1t on his lance:
Float, float, flag of blue,
Fair flag of Gallo France,
A moment came, our country lay
Supine in throes of death,
Nor church nor State nor chivalry
Could stay her parting breath.
When 10! the Jeanne
Arose, a seraph of light:
Float, float, golden lilies
Three, on a field Of white.
And one day. In an hour of supreme :
Who's hercer. reused than he?-.
Jacques round his task, a fight to death
For his new-found liberty.
The "Marseillaise' upon his lips
e He won through fire and Hood;
Float, float. terrible flag,
Red with a brothers blood.
And thus-who is there can forget!-
Our nag, there, flying above,
Became through the years tricoior
In saving the things we. love
And now let us swear 10 follow IL
Fearless to suffer Aye.
Float. float for thee we i've
For thee our lives we freely give
For thee we live, and die