has been with the French, although I all along felt certain of their defeat."
Although the Dutt family stayed so much longer in England than in France, it was the latter country evidently which seized most forcibly on the imagination of the girls, especially of Toru. The strange contrast between the France of 1869, proud, joyous, beautiful and queen-like, and the France of 1871, conquered, blood-stained and distracted by internal feuds, made a deep impression on her, awakening her keenest sympathies and inspiring one of her most original poems.
Not dead; oh, no, she cannot die!
Only a swoon from loss of blood.
Levite England passes her by;
Help, Samaritan! None is nigh
Who shall staunch me this sanguine flood.
Range the brown hair, it blinds her eyen;
Dash cold water over her face!
Drowned in her blood, she makes no sign.
Give her a draught of generous wine!
None heed ; none hear to do this grace.
No! she stirs; there 's a fire in her glance.
'Ware, oh 'ware of that broken sword!
What! dare ye, for an hour's mischance
Gather around her, jeering France,
Attila's own exulting horde?
Lo! she stands up stands up e'en now,
Strong once more for the battle fray.
Gleams bright the star that from her brow
Lightens the world. Bow, nations, bow!
Let her again lead on the way.
