He DÉROULÈDE, PAUL, a French poet and politician, was born in Paris, September 2, 1846. studied in Paris and at Versailles; and was put to the law, but chose the army in preference. In 1867 he inserted some verses in the Review Nationale under the nom de plume of Jean Rebel. He assisted at the opening ceremonies of the Suez Canal in 1869; and returning to Paris he brought out at the Théâtre Française a drama in one act in verse, entitled Juan Strenner. He was a volunteer in the Franco-Prussian war, and was wounded at the battle of Sedan; escaped to Belgium; returned to Paris; fought against the Commune; received the decoration of the Legion of Honor; was prominent in politics as Chairman of the League of Patriots, and was throughout the exciting political life of Boulanger his most prominent supporter. Of his literary works, his Chansons d'un Soldat, in two series, issued in 1872 and 1875, were extremely popular, and in 1877 his fame was enhanced by the publication of a five-act poetical drama entitled L'Hetman; which was followed in 1880 by La Moabite. Later works by "the author of The Songs of a Soldier" are, De l'Education Nationale (1882); Monsieur le Uhlan et les Trois Couleurs (1884), an illustrated Christmas story; Refrains Militaires (1888); a romance entitled Histoire d'Amour (1890); and Chants du Paysan (1894). "The poems of Déroulède, crowned by the French Academy," says Vapereau's Dictionnaire des Contemporains, "enjoyed a truly popular success; which they well deserved for the truthfulness of their patriotic sentiment. They ran through numerous editions, and were widely scattered abroad in the form of extracts, which were distributed in the barracks and in the schools." "Paul Déroulède's appearances in politics," said the London Athenæum, upon the publication of Chants du Paysan in 1894, "have often been so grotesque and eccentric to British taste, that it is to be feared the ordinary Englishman regards him as a kind of mountebank. This would be unjust, for something better than mere Chauvinism and charlatanism has gone to the popularizing of the more than three hundred editions of his Chants du Soldat and its Tyrtæan sequels. There are many worse poetical inspirations than a very ardent patriotism; while M. Déroulède's faculties of expression are far indeed from despicable. The same qualities reproduce themselves not unsuccessfully in his Chants du Paysan, the fruit, as he tells us, of some months' retirement (in more or less disgust at things political and semi-political) to the Angoumois." COMRADES FOREVER! The tomb for me? The tomb? But why? Nay, let me in the trenches lie Beside my brother warriors thrown. 2 The sheet for me? The sheet? But why? Brave hearts, ye're bound to mine own! The tear for me? The tear? But why? Brave hearts, ye're bound to mine own! DERZHAVIN, GABRIEL (properly, DERSHAWIN, GAVRIL ROMANOWITSCH), a Russian statesman and poet, born in 1743; died in 1816. He was of noble Tartar descent; entered the gymnasium at Kazan, his birthplace, in 1758; thence he went to St. Petersburg, entered the military, and subsequently the civil service. In 1791 the Empress Catharine II. made him Secretary of State, and a few years afterward President of the College of Commerce. Upon the accession, in 1766, of Paul to the imperial throne, Derzhavin was placed at the head of the Council of State. In 1800 he became Imperial Treasurer, and in 1802 Minister of Justice. A complete edition of his Works, in five volumes, was put forth at St. Petersburg in 1810-15. They comprise an Ode on the Birth of the Emperor Alexander, one on Irreligion, and the magnificent one upon God, which has been translated into many Oriental and most Occidental languages. ODE TO GOD. O thou Eternal One! whose presence bright Whom none can comprehend, and none explore, Who fillest existence with Thyself alone; Embracing all-supporting-ruling o'er : Being, whom we call God-and know no more! In its sublime research, Philosophy May measure out the ocean-deep, may count The sands or the sun's rays; but, God! for Thee There is no weight nor measure, none can mount Up to Thy mysteries; Reason's brightest spark, Though kindled by Thy light, in vain would try To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark; And thought is lost ere thought can mount so high, E'en like past moments in eternity. Thou from primeval nothingness didst call First Chaos, then Existence ;-Lord, on Thee Eternity had its foundation; all Sprang forth from Thee-of light, joy, harmony, Sole origin; all life, all beauty Thine, Thy word created all, and doth create; Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine. Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround, As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze, So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from thee; And as the spangles in the sunny rays Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry A million torches, lighted by Thy hand, Lamps of celestial ether, burning bright, Suns of lighting systems, with their joyous beams? But Thou to those are as the noon to night. Yes! as a drop of water to the sea, All this magnificence to Thee is lost: |